The Pariah, Heroic
by The Shrapnel
Summary: Heroes help the good. Who's to say the good are on your side? The life of Mungojerrie, the secrets of Rumpleteazer, and what Macavity had to do with it all. COMPLETE!
1. The Hero

A/N: Hi, all. I've lurked around this awesome category on for quite a while. It's only now I've decided to upload something I've written for Cats. I hope you enjoy it.

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**The Pariah Heroic**

Heroes were the valiant ones, they told him. They rescued the helpless, aided the needy, saved the cataclysmic day. They were images of strength, of tall figures standing against the piercing sunlight. In the dimness of the place he was now, he wondered still if he could ever be one.

"A reject, found in the alley, Macavity," a whisper said to someone. "Not in bad shape. About same breed as Teaser, so they could work together once they're older."

He closed his eyes, imagining that he was asleep and dreaming. Dreams, they told him, were full of stars and skies colored with bright orange. Dreams resembled the flyers and posters humans left behind in the dust-silver trashcans. Rainbows and stripes and noisy jagged lines. It was sweet-sounding for a while until he heard someone walking towards him. He looked up.

"You're absolutely right," Macavity said, bending down a little for a better view. "He's not in bad shape at all. And judging by the scratches he left on Jyx, he'll be of frequent use." The cat reached up to pick at his thin, rough lips. "He's not too much a newborn; already a nicely grown young tom. The only thing now is if he wants to work for us. Kitten, do you want to work for me?"

He shook his head – it was the only gesture he knew of.

"Do you want to go back on the street?"

He shook his head.

"Do you remember how your mother abandoned you?"

He shook his head.

"Do you have a name, kit?"

He shook his head.

Macavity frowned, dark black pupils dashing here and there, inspecting his face. He straightened up after a while, towering over. Cracks in the board of wood overhead – or ceiling, from a cat's perspective – brought in slivers of light from outside. Standing there, a form shrouded in blackness but crowned by white, made him seem like a hero to the adolescent kitten. He _was _a hero.

"He will work for me."

"Work? You think a muted little reject-kit like that will manage to navigate the streets and carry out your complicated, precise missions all alone?"

Macavity smiled – not kindly, but slyly. "The muted little reject-kit won't be all alone. As you mentioned – Teaser's a good match." He turned his head around slightly, and his voice immediately changed tone from deep to something unusually good-natured, friendly. "Rumple, sweetheart."

He could see somewhere in the dim blotch of corner another black and orange cat, possibly the same age as he was – around the teenage years. She was facing the wall, pawing at a rusted old can in boredom. At the call of her name, she looked behind, the blue bright in her eyes and the disinterest evident on her face.

"Rumple, sweetheart," Macavity said again. "Do you think you'll like this tom?"

Her gaze shifted from the tall red tom to the younger one sitting in front of him, in one cursory glance. There was a pause of silence, and then she shrugged and turned back to her toy.

"Well, you're in luck, reject-kit," the henchcat grumbled. "The princess of the house likes you."

"And a princess she is. First good female I ever hired. That human object around her neck? The shiny pearls? Quick little poppet stole it herself."

Teaser– Rumple- however she wanted to call herself turned around again, beaming at the compliment from her master. Her ears flicked back and forth, and she held up part of the necklace to let it gleam in the scarce light there was in the room. At her age she was almost like a newborn. He saw Macavity return her a devious, assuring smile.

"This reject-kit," said the henchcat in his parched, rough voice, shaking his head. "He came from nowhere. The alleys a short run away from Jellicle territory. He hasn't even got a name."

Macavity scratched at his chin, his eye never leaving him. "Yowler, you remember many months ago, that master thief that gave me half the catch of the human fish catchers?"

"Jerrie, I remember," the henchcat answered, following the action of rubbing his chin. "Your greatest ever."

"Jerrie it is, then," Macavity nodded, smiling yet again. "Your name, kit, will be Jerrie."

Learning this new movement the hero was doing, "Jerrie" bobbed his head up and down in agreement. He now had a true name.

"You're naming it after your greatest ever?" Yowler exclaimed, yellow eyes wide. "Isn't that too much expectation from a reject-kit?"

"Not when he's already met them," Macavity shrugged indifferently, turning around to exit through a hole in the wooden-plan wall. "Come, Yowler. I'll alert the others to make way for another living spot. Rumple, darling, get yourself acquainted with your lovely new partner."

Sputtering in disbelief, the henchcat dutifully followed him out, leaving the two orange striped kittens alone. There was a long, voiceless pause as Jerrie sat where he was, trying to absorb all this new information, while the female busied herself with her tin cans. Deciding that there was nothing else to do, Jerrie walked over to her.

"What _is _your name?" he asked, genuinely curious. "Teaser, or Rumple?"

She shrugged. "They jus' call me both."

"What should I call you?"

She shrugged again.

"I think I'll call you both," Jerrie settled on, sitting down beside her in the corner. "Rumple… teaser. Rumpleteaser."

"That's new," she said, still concentrating on the toy. "I like it. You can call me that." Jerrie nodded in agreement, and she thought for a while. "…I thought ya couldn't talk."

"Why?"

"Ya didn't talk when Macavity was in the room," answered Rumpleteaser, fingering one of the pearls on her human necklace.

"That's 'cause I was shy. I'm alright now." He hesitated, and then held his paw towards her. "I'm Jerrie."

"I know. I was listening," she answered nonchalantly, ignoring his outstretched hand. He hastily drew it back.

"Okay," It was Jerrie's turn to think this time, for a question, a way to forward the conversation. "Why do ya stay with Macavity?"

Rumpleteaser smiled mischievously, her eyes twinkling. "Isn't he nice? I follow his orders, and he gives me stuff. He helps me a lot."

"Like… a hero?"

"What's a hero?"

"Someone who helps the needy."

She shrugged. "Well, I'm not needy. So I reckon he isn't one yet."

To Jerrie, he already was.


	2. The Sidekick

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Alright, alright, here's where I come crawling back blubbering for forgiveness. I can't believe I published this more than a year ago and neglected it up till now. My only excuse is I went on a brief _Cats _high and it went away for a while. But! I finally got to watch it live and now the high feeling is back again! I hope enough people will forgive me for this to still be alright. Please, enjoy, and I hope the next interval between chapters isn't as long as the last. :P

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**The Pariah Heroic**

**CHAPTER 2**

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"Stay _still!" _Rumpleteaser pushed down on Jerrie's head as they both tried in vain to get a clear view through the crack in the dusty wall. "Lousy louse!"

Three months in the Headquarters brought a bit of quiet hostility from the other henchcats to Jerrie, and a lot of loud bullying from Teaser – Rumple- whatever it was she was officially named. Aside from adjusting, life had been mildly boring. While each hour cats were rushing in and out to follow Macavity's orders, Jerrie hadn't even started any form of training. Today, though, was special. Today, there was a visitor.

Peeking through the hole, all Jerrie could see were faint shafts of light, and two figures. There was Macavity, his hero, sitting easily in his throne of metal and plastic, and someone else.

"Who's that?" Jerrie asked.

"His name's Tugger," Rumpleteaser sighed dreamily. "Ain't he the _handsomest_?"

Before Jerrie could answer, the hero interrupted him.

"Ah, my dearest friend," Macavity said smoothly, almost happily. "It's thrilling to see you again. How's your queen?"

"No stupid small talk, Macavity," the figure retorted, and stepped out of the dimness. Jerrie peered through, and the inevitable stab of jealousy struck through him. Rumpleteaser was right, alright – the tom was handsome. At least, he was handsomer than the scruffy old henchcats to be seen daily. Tugger continued, "I'm here on Munkustrap's orders."

"Munkustrap!" Macavity said in some strange version of surprise. "It's been so long since we've last… spoken. How's my dear brother eldest?"

"Incredibly angry," the tom with the large, golden mane responded, irritated. "Says he's seen your cats on Jellicle territory. What you choose to do with your empire is no longer our business, but he prefers you stay out our circle and keep our cats _out _of danger."

"My men?" the hero said, feigning shock. "Knowing how they are, I would consider that deplorable. But still – routes in your territory are _most _convenient. Surely, as long as they pass through, with no harm done to your darling Jellicles – all is well?"

"They're scaring our cats and your theatrics isn't making this any better," Tugger scowled as he leaned against the wall. Then he seemed to soften, and sighed. "Macavity, find another passage for your… goons. Ties between you and Munkustrap are bad enough. If your henchcats continue to threaten us there's no stopping him from declaring an all-out war."

Jerrie switched his view back to Macavity, who finally straightened up in his throne. His expression was decidedly solemn.

"If that's what dear brother eldest demands," he said with a melodramatic sigh.

"Good," Tugger relaxed and placed his hands at his hips, looking around. "This place looks the same. You don't do much cleaning, do you?"

"We rarely have visitors," Macavity replied casually. "And the visitors we receive frequently become… residents." His dark eyes darted to the wall, where the two were silently peeking through. Panicked, Jerrie ducked, and Rumpleteaser above him toppled over in a string of hissed swear words.

Tugger mouth formed a smirk – he appeared so relaxed in this dark, dangerous place that it was peculiar. "You aren't suggesting I join you, do you?"

"This business has accomplished great things," Macavity rose from his seat and advanced. "My friend, imagine if we _both _had it. You cannot deny that your past is… flawed." He reached out a paw to rest on Tugger's shoulder, but the black-and-yellow tom stepped back, his easiness gone.

"Past is past," Tugger answered rigidly. "It's all been erased."

"What's he talkin' about?" Jerrie whispered to Rumpleteaser, but she slapped a paw onto his mouth and shushed him.

"And you think you can erase it by continuing to lie?" Macavity asked, his tone mocking. "You are not a prim and proper Jellicle, you know that. You are the Rum Tum Tugger, the object of desire for queens and the object of abhorrence for humans. Is that little ruined junkyard truly where you belong?"

"I'm leaving," Tugger sharply turned away.

"Then Ventis shall show you out," Macavity retreated to his throne, but his eyes were glued on the tom. Somehow, a sly smile came to his lips. "You escape your past just as well as any enemy escapes this fortress – with plenty of scars."

The Rum Tum Tugger's profile peeked slightly from behind his shoulder. "If anything new happens, send for me, because Munkustrap can't stand you." He slipped into the darkness, and the last thing Jerrie could see were glints off his bright gold mane. He heard Rumpleteaser sigh in dreamy delight, and pulled her away from the crack in the wall.

"So who's this Tugger?" Jerrie asked, incorrigibly curious. "And this Munk bloke? And why does the hero have a brother?"

Rumpleteaser stared at him, and then blinked out dust falling into her eyes. "Who's the hero?"

"Macavity."

"Tugger comes here every once-and-then," Rumple shrugged, and then grinned. "Ain't he something to sniff at! He called me princess once." She fingered a Woolworth pearl on her necklace, biting her lip in joyful reminiscence. Jerrie rolled his eyes.

"Anything else, besides, uh, handsome?"

"He's Macavity's best friend. Well, I suppose he is. He's the only tommer that ever shows up here. He talks for Macavity's brother, Munkustrap, 'cause he doesn't wanna see him face to face."

Jerrie blinked, surprised. "But why? What's he ever done?"

"What I'd kill t'know!" Rumpleteaser shook her head. "Jellicles never make good sense."

"Jellicles?"

Rumpleteaser turned her head to him, narrowing her yellow eyes. "You really got no brains where you came from, do ya?"

"Jellicles?" Jerrie persisted.

"They're the tribe living in the junkyard down at Wellington's. Strange right bunch of cats. That's where Tugger comes from." Rumpleteaser stretched in her place, and then wheeled around in the direction of the living quarters. "Walk with me, I'll tell more to ya."

Macavity's headquarters were an abandoned butcher's shop at the very end of Forest Street. There was no longer any electricity, but holes in the roofs and ceilings provided them with the light they needed. Past storms brought wooden beams and shelves to the floor, leaving plenty of material to build out of. And of course, the rusty metal hooks and knives never ran out of uses.

"Macavity used to be with the Jellicles," Rumpleteaser continued as they ducked through and under fallen boards. "He and the Tugger got into plenty of trouble with them. The rule was, never step outta the junkyard. The thing was, they always did."

"What for?"

"Uh, stealing, I guess?" Rumpleteaser frowned, digging into her memories for any last bits of information. "I reckon that's more for Macavity's case, though. Tugger… he just liked the queens." She sighed dramatically, fluttering her eyelashes at Jerrie. "You think he'll come back here for me one day?"

Jerrie rolled his eyes. "Tugger fancied everything that moved, I understand. But was that so bad?"

"Bad enough to get him nearly kicked out," Rumpleteaser replied, twirling a claw through the fur on her head.

"Wait, what?"

"Boss and Tugger went here and there, went farther away from the junkyard than the elders would ever have liked. But it got worse – Tugger, well…" Rumpleteaser paused, ominously lowering her voice, "from what I hear – for the queens he found, he didn't ask permission."

Jerrie's ears flicked, his idea of Macavity the Hero a little rocked. "What do you mean?"

"What I'd kill t'know!" Rumple threw her paws up, laughing a bit and removing any previous gloom. "All after about, the Tugger felt awful and came back to the tribe, but I guess the Boss did something worse because they never let him back in."

"But what'd Macavity do?"

Rumpleteaser smiled at him mischievously. "Dare ya to ask."

"_Damn_, no!" exclaimed Jerrie, horrified in imagining his reaction. Rumpleteaser simply giggled and continued on her way.

"You ask a lotta questions," she said as they entered the main quarters. "I reckon it's because you don't come from us _or _the Jellicles. Don't you know _anything _for yourself?"

"Myself?" Jerrie stared at her. "I don't think I know much. I only know about heroes."

"Heroes!" Rumpleteaser scoffed, trotting her way to Jerrie's makeshift bed of tattered meat cloths and poster ads. Jerrie had lovingly collected them in his few travels outside Headquarters, pulling them off brick walls and windows. They said all sorts of strange human things: _VOTE JOHNSON, APARTMENT FOR RENT AT 35__TH__ STREET CALL THIS NUMBER, SAINT MUNGO OF SCOTLAND AND GLASGOW, MISSING: NELL FLATLEY._

"Heroes… that's all you ever blubber about. Back before you I never even heard of the thing. What's a hero again?"

"He helps the nee-" before Jerrie could finish, his left shoulder crashed into the side of a burly, black henchcat.

"Mungo!" the giant thing roared at him. "You'd best watch your path, nasty runt!"

Jerrie hissed, "I'd have that easier if ya made way!" Then he stopped, and gulped. In the three months he'd been here, he had been able to bear all torment without complaint. What was with the sudden disrespect?

Jyx narrowed his eyes, the scratch marks between his brows going crooked. "All sharp with claws and tongue, but nothin' to fight with. Watch for us, kit."

He trudged away in heavy steps, leaving Jerrie in shivers and Rumpleteaser in awe. She took his shoulder and turned him towards her.

"Aw, Jerrie," she cooed, in her own version of kindness. "You'll get used to the place." She smiled for a moment, but stopped to think. "Why's he calling ya Mungo?"

Jerrie shrugged. "Everyone but you and Boss calls me Mungo. It's because of that." He pointed at one of the wrinkled posters sitting on his bed, a brownish-orange rectangle with white letters and the image of a glowing, bent over human.

_SAINT MUNGO OF SCOTLAND AND GLASGOW_

"According to the smarter henchies it reads something Mungo something," he said. "They made fun of me because I brought home all these human things. Then they saw this paper bit that says Mungo."

"So you have now two names!" exclaimed Rumpleteaser, amused. She took him by both shoulders, grinning. "Then you to me an' me to you. I'm going to call you… Jerrie… Mungo… _Jerriemungo_."

The bright orange tom frowned. "I don't like it."

The young queen bit her lip and wrinkled her nose, thinking of all possible combinations. "Then I'm going to call you… Mungojerrie."

"Mungojerrie. That's actually… not a slight bad," he let it mull over in his mind, then grinned as wide as she did. "I'm Mungojerrie."

"And Rumpleteaser."

"Mungojerrie."

"Rumpleteaser."

"Mungojerrie!"

"Rumpleteaser!"

"Mungo!" "Rumple!" "Jerrie!" "Teaser!"

Rumpleteaser tackled Mungojerrie to the ground, yelling her name into his face. Under their playful arguing the low buzz of other cats' voices faded away.

Mungojerrie thrashed violently under her tickling, laughing until he realized that she was no longer looking at him. On the floor, he craned his head to gawk at the feet that had newly appeared before him.

"Um. Hello, boss?"


	3. The Mission

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Here's the next chapter. I told you I wasn't going to take as long as before. :P This one is mostly exposition, exposition, Mungo and Teaser standing with their jaws agape, exposition. Hopefully some action peeks through in the next? Haha. Please, please enjoy.

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**The Pariah, Heroic**

**CHAPTER 3**

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"You sleep over there," Ventis motioned to a dim, plain corner in the henchcats' living quarters. "You have that sack as a cushion." He was about to walk away when he noticed the black-and-orange tom had not at all moved. "Well, stray? Expect me to sing you a lullaby?"

The teenaged kitten shook his head, still standing shakily where he was. "No, it's… eh, never mind." He realized that the gaunt, balding henchcat was eyeing him distrustfully. "I'm… I'm just glad it's better than where I came from." With nothing more than a noncommittal grunt, Ventis turned and trudged out of the den.

A ringing silence tickled at his wilting ears. With no idea of what was to come, Jerrie stretched a little and curled up on the meat cloth. It was cold, unadorned. He imagined it would look much better with colors.

Jerrie closed his eyes. What was he going to do now? Crying seemed unreasonable. He had lost nothing. On the contrary, he'd found somewhere to live, and other cats to talk to. The thought made him remember how exhausted he was – how bruised his paws were from endlessly walking through the city paths. Yowler had found him lying in an alley forcing out a newborn's cry to its mother. Jerrie closed his eyes.

Only a moment later, he felt the soft pads of a paw laid on his arm. Groggy, he kept his eyelids glued shut, too tired to acknowledge who it was. The claws attached to it combed lightly at his fur, curious.

"It's me, Teaser," a squeaky female voice informed him. "I'm ten moons old. Macavity says you're 'bout the same age. I like silver things. And brown mice. And Argentine joint. So if you want us to be friends, you have to remember that."

Jerrie curled up a little tighter in his bed. He didn't want to be rude and show how disinterested he was, but he really was too drained to listen. The paw stopped stroking, and laid itself firmly on his shoulder instead.

"T'morrow's free-roam," Rumpleteaser's voice continued. "If you want, you could run with me. I like to run, too."

"Sounds fun," was all Jerrie could muster, and his mind finally gave in to dreaming.

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"Um. Hello, boss?"

The smattering of henchcats that were in the den had fallen silent in the presence of their leader. He motioned for them all to leave, which they unquestioningly did so.

"Good afternoon, kit," the hero said coolly, his paws behind his back. From Mungojerrie's view, the upside-down Macavity towered darkly over him, against the little brightness there was in the room. Each sharp tuft of fur was outlined with light, and his face was covered in shadows.

"Aft'noon, boss!" answered Rumpleteaser cheerily, putting on a flashy smile. She fluttered her eyelashes, hoping for a compliment.

Macavity returned the smile. "Good afternoon, darling," he returned, and patted the young queen's head affectionately. She received it with low, rolling purrs. Macavity looked again at Mungojerrie, who was still pinned to the floor by a distracted Rumpleteaser.

"Have you been enjoying your stay here, Jerrie?" to hear his name – well, at least his old name – being spoken by the hero, felt somewhat thrilling. Wordlessly, he nodded his head, like he had done as a young kit on his first day.

"His name is Mungojerrie now!" Rumpleteaser piped up, her ear still under Macavity's paw. "I made it for him."

The fat, gray-furred Yowler peeked out from behind Macavity, looking annoyed. "Not entirely. Macavity gave him the official name of Jerrie, and you simply attached our nickna-"

"If my dear believes he is better suited being named Mungojerrie, then Mungojerrie he will be," the ginger cat raised a paw to keep Yowler quiet, and grumpily he complied. "Now, kit, stand up so we can have a look at you."

Hastily the tom pulled himself out of Rumpleteaser's grips and stood at attention, obedient as a soldier. There was silence for a few seconds, and before a henchcat or Rumpleteaser could break it, the Hidden Paw spoke to him.

"Look at me."

He squirmed, becoming nervous.

"Mungojerrie, look at me."

With all his willpower gathered, Mungojerrie wrenched his eyes from the dark, dusty ground to meet with the most piercing pair he had ever seen. They were black, yet bright, and in his pupils was a sharp glint of orange – Mungojerrie's reflection. The gaze was fixed that way for what felt like a solid minute, and if there was any other noise going on in the living quarters it had been all but blocked out.

"Have you trained at all in the time you were here?" inquired Macavity.

Mungojerrie, timidly, shook his head.

"We run the streets together on good days," Rumpleteaser offered. "And he goes off alone every once-and-then."

Mungojerrie gulped; he hoped he wouldn't be mad.

Macavity nodded. "A tiny bit of bravery within you. Good to begin with." He looked him up and down, inspecting his arms, his face. He took Mungojerrie's jaw between his thumb and forefinger, to study his fangs. "You've grown well," he observed, calmly. "A far cry from that mute reject-kit Yowler found."

He let go of his jaw. Mungojerrie took this moment to rub at his cheeks, still feeling the dents where the hero's claws had rested. Hopefully it didn't seem disrespectful – he had no idea what Macavity truly thought of his behavior.

"How would you like your first assignment, kit?"

Mungojerrie's paw dropped from his face. His stare was no longer uneasy, but now bewildered. Macavity's remained the same – expressionless, intellectual. In the split second he had to think, Mungojerrie wondered if the hero ever felt anything besides pride, and deep thought. Partly he could see beside himself Rumpleteaser's own shocked face - _he _wasn't being assigned before _she _was, was he?

"A-assignment, boss?" he managed to stammer out. "But I haven't even…"

"Yes, you haven't trained to match my other cats," Macavity waved a paw and cut him off. "But this specific job does not require brute strength. Not even fighting skills. It calls for you… and Rumpleteaser."

Rumpleteaser perked up at the mention of her name, her blue eyes wide. "Me?"

"For Bast's sake, Macavity," Yowler butted in, sounding more frustrated than he usually did. "They're _kittens_. Well, young adults if you discard exaggeration, but how could these two even handle a detailed set of instructions?"

"Calm, Yowler," replied Macavity, nonchalantly. "The instruction is simple. The rest will come naturally. This mission calls for Rumpleteaser's cunning, and Mungojerrie's… bravery."

The two orange cats exchanged looks, beaming from the praise that had drowned out Yowler's complaints. What was this assignment so special that it called specifically for them, the Notorious Couple of Cats? (Rumpleteaser had made up their team name. Mungojerrie had expressed dislike for it but it wasn't like she was going to listen anyway.)

Macavity cleared his throat to regain everyone's attention. "A summary," he said with his head unmoving but his dark eyes scanning the room. "A summary of the tribes near our home."

Yowler hurriedly scuttled from behind the leader to beside him. He began counting with his fingers. "Well, eh… the Quelles, Thorons, the Meladous, the… Rets, and, well… the Jellicles."

"Excellent," the leader nodded. He began to pace in front of the teenaged kittens, who were still standing at attention, listening to every word. "Here now is a lesson on all the other inhabitants of London, younglings. The Quelle Cat tribe stays to the west at Abbots, in a human's closed up park. They specialize in plant life, and herbs, but in fighting they pose no threat. The Thoron Cats reside in a warehouse in Pennack, wherein they have learned to create machines to assist them in their lives. I have come to them often for weapons, and they do not disappoint. We do not treat them as enemy.

"The Meladou tribe… a useless bunch. The elitists in feline society, I might say. All have owners, and they have no official tribe residence. They simply meet at their humans' clubs and parties in St James Street. My men could easily take them down in one planned attack, but what use are pampered cats to my empire – or to anyone, for that matter? The Ret Cats are the largest tribe in London. Of course, number somewhat sacrifices intelligence so they are all quite clueless. It would be effortless to convince them into becoming an army for us, but as of now I do not need them. And now we come to the final tribe."

"The Jellicles," Rumpleteaser finished, now completely focused. She bit her lip. Mungojerrie could see she was practically jumping out of her fur to hear more.

"Yes, Teaser darling. The Jellicle tribe. Now, the Quelles specialize in farming, the Thorons in mechanics, the Meladous in being arrogant fussers, and the Rets in combat, but the Jellicles… their skill might be considered the most powerful."

"Magic," said Yowler. "They specialize in magic."

Mungojerrie's ears flicked back and forth in increased curiosity. Up to now he had never heard this detail about the Jellicles.

"The number of magical cats they have is greater than any other tribe's," Macavity continued, his pacing leaving a noticeable trail of dust on the ground. "Foolish, though, they are. They use their powers for nothing more than shows and tricks. Imagine what _we _could do with them."

"What… what _could_ we do with them, Boss?" Mungojerrie asked.

The Hidden Paw stopped pacing, turning his head towards him. He looked him, wordlessly, in a way that made Mungojerrie squirm once again. Rumpleteaser froze where she was, suddenly just as tense.

Without warning, Macavity spun around to face the other side of the den, and lifted his claws to a corner of the ceiling. Lightning – pure, hot, blinding lightning – zapped out from his paw and ended in a burst of fire in the cement it had been aimed at. A gaping hole now poured new light into the living quarters, still crackling faintly with electricity.

Macavity turned back to face the utterly stunned kittens, as calm as before. In the sudden movement Yowler had ended up crouched on the ground, shielding his head with his arms. He peeked out from under as the last of the lightning fizzled out in popping noises.

"Forgive my rudeness, Macavity, but did that really have to happen… in our living den?"

"I am descended from a particularly magical cat," Macavity resumed his narrative, completely ignoring his assistant. "He is the leader of the Jellicles – Old Deuteronomy." He took note of Mungojerrie's astonished expression. "I will not hide from either of you my past. Yes, once in my youth I was with the Jellicles, with my brother, Munkustrap. As of now the Jellicle tribe is in a mostly vulnerable state. They are currently in mourning for the passing of my mother, Noily Prat."

The hero's indifference towards his mother's death did not surprise Mungojerrie. Then again, he had never met _his own _mother, so who was he to judge?

"My magic is limited to the battle, levitation and teleportation kinds. The Jellicles, however, keep to themselves a special sort. They alone hold the power to open up the Heaviside Layer. It is where the wisest of Jellicles are once a year chosen to go to experience true enlightenment, to be reborn. And, if you realize… the Jellicle cats are nothing without it." A sly, proud grin crept to Macavity's lips. "All destruction begins from within."

Mungojerrie blinked after what felt like a straight hour of intently listening. His ears twitched. He couldn't tell if Macavity's last sentence was meant to be cryptic, because it had not at all helped in figuring out what the mission was about.

"So, boss," Rumpleteaser finally piped up, beginning to sound excited again. "What're we going to do?"

"Yes, what _are _they going to do?" asked Yowler, his interest evident as well.

"And here is where your mission features," Macavity gave his Rumpleteaser an unusually friendly smile. "You shall join the tribe as young strays, looking for shelter. While their security is high their silly softness for the homeless always shows through. From there you shall relay messages to me on their inner workings – on how exactly they open their Layer, on how their magic functions… and hopefully, how to destroy their powers."

"No magic means no Jellicles," Mungojerrie realized aloud. He felt thrilled to have so much now in his paws.

Macavity smiled at him the same way he had smiled at Rumpleteaser, making him feel much more at ease. "That is correct, Mungojerrie. Once we take over the magic they possess, the Jellicles are nothing – thus removing them as obstacles in the progress of my business." He leaned over closer, until he was eye-to-eye with the faces of the black-and-orange cats. "Are you willing?"

"Yes!" Rumpleteaser exclaimed joyfully, with no hesitation whatsoever. "Yes, boss!"

Macavity's eyes shifted to the tom, awaiting an answer. "And you, Mungojerrie?"

Imagine the pride the hero would feel, how much he would praise him upon completion of the mission. Smiling, Mungojerrie nodded. "Yes, boss."

And that, he supposed, was the official beginning of the Notorious Couple of Cats.


	4. The Villain

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Here's the newest chapter, which turned out to be unexpectedly long. The Notorious Couple of Cats finally enter the junkyard!

I'd also like to take this moment to thank everyone who reviewed. You guys keep me going! Love for all, love for all. Enjoy.

* * *

**The Pariah Heroic**

**CHAPTER 4

* * *

**

The junkyard had been out of use since 1995. It was declared overfilled and hazardous to hang about in, and so the humans picked out a new spot for dumping garbage. Its single entrance, a fifteen-foot gate of wire and steel, had been sealed with a heavy padlock. However, all around the fence that hid this junkyard from the rest of the city were peculiar little holes – fragments of wire yanked and clawed and gnawed at -

– and all of these holes were remarkably large enough for a cat to fit through.

Mungojerrie and Rumpleteaser sat quietly and stared at the junkyard from across the road. Flung over their shoulders were old socks, made to look like they were carrying their only belongings around with them. Each contained tiny scraps of food, pieces of cloth for makeshift bandages, and, concealed with a false bottom, a human's carving knife, just in case.

The instruction from Macavity had been, "Enter and be noticed." Exactly _how _they would do that was up to them. To their embarrassment, it was taking the duo a good half of the afternoon to gather up their courage and begin the mission.

"Ya think we'll act good enough for the Jellicles to believe us?" asked Mungojerrie.

"I told you, the Jellicles are stupid. Stupid cats believe everything."

"Okay."

That ended the twenty-sixth of their micro-conversations as the pair sat there, waiting for the other to initiate the movement into the junkyard. Somehow, the eerie silence that blanketed the entire area kept them from starting. From silence came focus. From focus came alertness. From alertness came discovery. And from discovery came their capture.

"A dump, honestly," Mungojerrie mused aloud. "They're the most magical out of all the tribes in London, and they eat an' sleep in a dump?"

"Macavity says it's for privacy," Rumpleteaser said apathetically, digging through her tube sock for a piece of fish to bite at. "They practice at their abraca-lala all the time so they don't want any humans ooh-aahing."

"But why do they want to practice so much? The bunch don't _do _anything."

"What I'd kill t'know," said Rumpleteaser as she chewed on her salmon meat. She fingered a pearl on her necklace. "I guess that's what the hero wants us to find out."

Spending all her time with Mungojerrie had made Rumpleteaser catch the habit of calling the tall, red tom a hero. For the two of them, its original meaning had faded away and had come to be defined as "Macavity", simply.

"Remember," the calico queen inched closer to Mungojerrie, lowering her voice to a theatrical whisper. "Old Deuteronomy's the leader, Munkustrap's the protector, Jellylorum's the recorder and Missed-a-Flea is chief conjurer."

"You mean Mistoffelees."

"Whatever. The old man's a poor player at names, he is," she rolled her eyes.

"What will _our_ names be?"

"What was that?" Rumpleteaser turned to him, a flake of salmon between her bared teeth.

"When the Jellicles ask for our names, what'll we give 'em?" asked Mungojerrie. Would they have to think up aliases? The couple _did _have to be plausible fellows, after all.

The queen thought of this for a moment, her ears flat on her head. "I don't know. But the blokes don't know us, so I reckon we can just use our real ones."

"But they've got a recording bloke," Mungojerrie reasoned. "What if he'll ask us to write our names?"

"The recorder's a queen."

"None different," the tom, annoyed, pulled a poster out from his sock (to decorate his new den if needed) and flattened it out face down on the hot pavement. He lifted a left claw, caked in dirt, and began to slowly carve out the spellings of their names. He frowned. Ventis back in Headquarters had taught the two of them how to read and write to better carry out assignments, but if Mungojerrie was anything, he was a reluctant learner. It was Rumpleteaser who picked up on things with an impossible speed (except anything regarding Jellicledom). All he remembered was that letters made up things you said. He sounded out Rumpleteaser's name in his head as he unsteadily scrawled the corresponding letter.

_RAM POL TEI ZA_

"What _is _that drawing?" his friend peeked over his shoulder, frowning. "Looks like you stabbed a fishbone."

"That's your _name_," Mungojerrie said. "That's what it reads like." What did she expect, perfect handwriting from a cat?

"It doesn't look right. Do yours." He mentally sounded out his name as he wrote underneath Rumpleteaser's.

_MA GO JER E_

"That one's wrong," Rumpleteaser poked the poster with her finger, haughtily. "You're _Mungo_-jerrie. That reads Muh-go-jerrie."

Mungojerrie bit his lip, thinking hard. "I don't know how to write that middle sound."

Rumpleteaser opened her mouth as if to assist him, but thought it over. "I don't know too."

Sitting out in the middle of the city arguing over names didn't seem like a very dignified picture to report to the boss. Looking once more at the text he'd just scribbled onto the back of his _ST MUNGO _poster, Mungojerrie directed his view back to the junkyard – quiet, unmoving, immense. Inside, supposedly, was the jealousy of every cat in London – a grasp on the extraordinary concept of magic. Why an opportunity so desired was placed in the hands of two unruly, indecisive teen kits was probably a mystery to all. That is, except for the hero.

* * *

The Junkyard was peaceful.

Munkustrap was stunned – he didn't know if he'd overlooked a spot while on duty, or if everyone had gone to hide from an enemy he hadn't seen, or if the younger toms had mastered the art of brawling without a single noise, but the Junkyard was peaceful.

"I think you should blink soon," said Alonzo beside him. He stretched languidly on the top of the car hood. "It's nap hour. Keeping watch over nothing must be tiring."

The silver tabby cat didn't reply, and Alonzo sighed. "What is it like in there?"

Munkustrap finally craned his head toward the black-and-white tom. "Pardon? Where?"

"In your head," Alonzo made a lazy grin, and shifted from his lying position to sit properly beside his best friend. "You must see everything double its size. It explains why you tend to exaggerate. And all of the most trouble-prone spots in the junkyard are possibly highlighted in red through your vision."

Munkustrap laughed a bit, the first time that day and probably the first time that week. "I'm sure that one day I'll very well go insane. But nobody else could possibly be willing to take this post."

Alonzo raised one of his eyebrows. "_I_ had wanted to be Tribe Protector. Unfortunately, nepotism triumphs over all qualifications," he said half-humorously, half-sincerely. "Old Deuteronomy found you most deserving, I guess."

"Don't flatter me," the silver tabby said, looking mildly worried. Any mention of his father brought him down quite a bit – the old cat was currently in mourning over the death of his ninth mate, Noily Prat. While Munkustrap was the son of the wife before her – some beautiful, gray queen who left before he could have any memory of her – Noily was the one who had truly been a mother to him.

"Well, considering the other choices, you _were _the most deserving," Alonzo shrugged. "Don't worry yourself, Munkus. Being protector of an entire tribe of cats doesn't require humility. On the contrary, it forbids it. So I suggest you reward yourself a break once in a while."

Munkustrap took this fleeting moment of rest to smile at his joke. "I'm sure I don't work every minute of every hour. You do love to distract me."

"Apparently I've done so quite well," replied Alonzo, the humor in his voice lost. "I've distracted you long enough to let those two strangers in."

Immediately the Protector whipped around, searching out the area for the intruders. He saw them, finally – two bright orange figures stumbling in through a minor entrance, seeming dazed while holding sock bags over their shoulders. He tried to peer closer. A tom, it seemed, and a queen. Various Jellicles who'd been relaxing on junk pieces opened their eyes to locate the disturbance in the peacefulness of the territory. And every single pair of eyes settled on the couple of cats who had just entered.

"Uhthah kets, Jerrie," the new queen tugged at her brother's shoulder, wide-eyed. Her thick accent was hard to understand from a distance. "We found uhthah kets."

"Flippin' Bast," the tom answered, looking around. "Ya don't reckon they live 'eah? Ya reckon we can too?"

"Lookeht them! Clean as licks. I bet they's all got ownahs."

"Then whot in blimes ah they doin' in a joonkyahd? Shabby sad place." The tom surveyed the area with a scowl.

"Jellylorum," Munkustrap called out to the gold- white queen resting atop the car tire. "Get today's report." Then he turned to the two new calicos. "You! The both of you!"

The black-and-orange cats stopped in their tracks, and turned to the source of the voice. The two were of the same breed, but looked too different to be considered siblings. The tom was tall, slightly muscular. The queen was a tiny jumpy thing that could have passed for a bundle of twigs. Clutching their socks tightly, they backed away.

"Stay where you are," Munkustrap commanded. Chatter from the surrounding Jellicles who had woken up buzzed through the air. He jumped down from the car hood and marched closer to the newcomers, emphasizing his tall stature. However, his expression somewhat softened – the pair looked less like intruders, more like two clueless, lost strays. He decided not to come off so strongly. "How did the two of you find your way here?"

"Heah?" the queen blinked. "Whot's 'eah?"

The protector breathed in a little. Did he trust these two enough to allow them such information? Before he could do anything, though, Jellylorum answered for him, "You are in the Jellicle Junkyard."

The couple's eyes widened. They turned to each other in hushed excitement, exchanging grins. Finally, the tom unlinked his arm from the queen's and stepped forward, dropping his sock to the floor. "Our apologies, mistah… mistah-"

"Munkustrap."

"Mistah Moonkustrap suh. We's just two strays gone all way from Quelle territory to heah. We mean no foightin', we's just lookin' foh a home. We's just scared that this is ouh last stop. If we's only got hostile eyes starin' upon us then we'll soon take ouh bags an' leave."

Munkustrap's ears picked up fragments of whispers from the cats who had gathered to listen. Some were concerned, others apathetic, some even hostile.

"-think they can trick us, the right lot of-"

"-poor things, imagine how miserable-"

"-you think she'll want to play with us? What-"

"-never seen either of them before-"

He turned again to the strays. They looked humbly, yet sadly, to the ground, clutching the other as if the only ones they could trust were each other. He glanced quickly at Jellylorum, who lowered her head slightly, flicking her ears – she was telling him it was entirely up to him. Normally it was Old Deuteronomy who decided the fate of outsiders who'd found their way into the Junkyard, but his father had requested a week of absence to dwell on his mate's passing. These few days, Munkustrap supposed, would be part of his training in becoming Jellicle Leader.

"The days have been quiet," the tabby closed his eyes, nodding. "You may stay with us for the month, and if all goes well, you may live here permanently."

The female's cry of utter joy made him jump ten feet in the air. She wrapped her companion in an embrace, who happily reciprocated. The chatter among the Jellicles increased in volume once again.

"-he could teach us a thing'r two about the streets, don't you-"

"-their colors, Skimble. Like fall-"

"-when'd we become Homeless Shelter Central?"

Jellylorum stepped forward with a clipboard made from a plank of wood and soda can tabs linked and fashioned into a clamp. Whoever had made it was stunningly resourceful, Munkustrap mused. She smiled kindly at the newcomers.

"Something for the record, my dears," she said, pulling out a pencil found from the dump. "What is your relation with the other?"

"We'ah just friends," the queen replied.

"Alright. And what are your names?"

"Oi'm Mungojerrie," the tom gestured to himself, then moved his paw to the queen. "An' she's Rumpleteasah."

"How would you spell that?"

The two froze where they were, simply staring at Jellylorum. Then they looked at each other, becoming quite nervous. A few seconds of silence passed by and the taller of them bit his lip, while Jellylorum gazed at them sympathetically.

"I'm sorry. It's fine if you don't know how to spell. I'll make spellings for you," she busied herself on her clipboard, jotting something down, and turned it to show to the strays.

_MUNGOJERRIE_

_RUMPLETEAZER_

"Hopefully you'll get used to them," said Jellylorum. "It's wonderfully useful for our records. What are your ages, if you know them?"

"We'ah both a yeah an' a moon."

"A year and a moon old," she finished writing, and looked up to smile at them. "We are a kind tribe. You should find no difficulty in befriending any of us."

Munkustrap stepped forward to align with the queen, and nodded as well. "Yes, well… welcome to the Jellicle Tribe."

* * *

Before Mungojerrie could open his mouth to thank him, a stampede of Jellicle cats enveloped the pair in welcoming hugs. Greetings, nuzzles and all, it was a slight bit overwhelming – he'd never seen so many cats in one place before. Crowded together there was a clashing abundance of color – black, white, orange, brown, red, gold, gray – like a crumpled up human poster.

"If you're a stray," a pretty, pure-white female asked. "How did you afford those pearls?"

"I… uh…" Rumpleteazer began to answer, but the white cat was pushed away before she could finish.

"Hi!" a tiny queen leaped in front of them, wearing a huge grin. "I'm Etcetera! Call me Etcy. Or Et. Or Cets. Or Cettie. Or anything. Hi!"

"I'm Pouncival!" a white and brown tom kitten rudely pushed her aside. "Don't mind my ugly sister! Hang out with me and the toms instead!"

He was shoved back – with surprising strength – by the kit named Etcetera. "Ugly face! I'm not ugly! You're ugly! I'm your sister! I can't be ugly!"

As the two fought and various other residents yelled their greetings to them, Mungojerrie lifted his view to look at the tire, to catch the sole figure standing there.

A huge knot of fear made his heart drop. The Rum Tum Tugger was a Jellicle. He'd forgotten all about him. What was going to happen? Tugger _knew _Rumpleteazer. He would spot her, and rat them out, and kick them out, and make known to the tribe that they worked for Macavity, their supposed enemy. The entire mission would be for naught. He and Rumpleteaser – well, now Rumpleteazer, it seemed – had done a phenomenal job in getting in. Would he be able to ruin it all?

The black and gold tom stood atop the tire, proudly, regally. His eyes fought Mungojerrie's. Their gazes locked for a split-second of a moment, strongly –

And Tugger smiled and bowed in greeting. Amidst the noise of the Jellicles, Mungojerrie was stunned. Had he forgotten all about Rumpleteazer? Did he not mind her being here in his home?

…or was Tugger in on the mission, too?

His train of thought was interrupted as a striped cat powerfully pulled them from the crowd – a sigh of disappointment rose from the cats – and the two were dragged into a large cement pipe. Mungojerrie blinked and turned to Rumpleteazer, who seemed absolutely dazed.

"Horribly sorry about that, really," the silver tabby said, looking embarrassed. "My tribe can be, well… overly excited by newcomers. We rarely accept anyone. I forgot to introduce myself, by the way. My name is Munkustrap. I am the Tribe Protector. I am serving temporarily as Leader while my father is away. You'll be able to meet him in a few days' time."

The cement pipe, it seemed, lead into a tunnel constructed from the surrounding garbage. It separated into various passages, with Munkustrap leading them into one particularly less-worn-out. They finally emerged in a small den, an empty living spot.

"You can stay here for now. I'm sorry if it's not big enough. I'll have our builder cat, Asparagus, figure something out for you two." He turned around to exit, but paused. "I hope you enjoy it here."

As the Jellicle Protector disappeared, Rumpleteazer sat down, leaning against a wall.

"Bast Almighty!" she breathed heavily. "If _that _wasn't a riot back out there! I thought I'd lose all my fur."

"Me too," Mungojerrie slumped down by her side, heaving a sigh. "Have you ever seen that many cats in one place?"

"Never," she answered, closing her eyes from exhaustion. She was slowly falling asleep. "Whattaday. I move places, I meet the stupid Jellicles, I get my name spelt…"

"Well, we tried t'spell it before, didn't we?" Mungojerrie smirked, reaching for his sock bag to find his _ST MUNGO_ poster.

Sock bag.

"We left our stuff back out!" the black-and-orange tom leaped to his feet, his energy suddenly regained. The Jellicles would find it. The Jellicles would see their knives. The Jellicles would ruin _everything_. Rumpleteazer was already slumping against a corner of the den in deep sleep, so Mungojerrie sprinted out on his own.

Navigating the den tunnels wasn't as easy without Munkustrap. Mungojerrie cursed every swear word he knew under his breath. Rumpleteazer would have remembered the directions. After what seemed like an entire three minutes, he finally found the beginning of the cement pipe, and ran out.

The Junkyard was empty.

He didn't know if he'd been knocked on the head and lost good eyesight, or if everyone had gone to hide from an enemy he hadn't seen, or if he had imagined the entire welcoming ceremony, but the Junkyard was empty.

It was, save for their sock packs sitting in the middle.

With a cat rummaging through his own.

"Y-You!" Mungojerrie sputtered out, stumbling towards the Jellicle. "Where's… where is everybody?"

The cat turned its head – it was a young queen. She was older-looking than that Etcetera kitten, but still a bit younger than that pure white one. She was brown and black and orange, with zigzags across her back from what Mungojerrie could see. Faded freckles were splashed across her nose.

"It's nap hour," she answered, simply.

Mungojerrie paused, contemplating this, but shook his head and continued to advance. "That's my stuff!"

"This fish is barely a day old," she stated plainly. "You couldn't have caught it if you'd come all the way from the Quelles."

Mungojerrie ignored her comment; all he was worried about was if she saw the knife. Unsheathing the claws on his left paw, he quickened his pace towards her. "Get away from our stuff!"

The queen dropped the meat, hurriedly standing up as she held up her paws to chest level. "Hey, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"Get away!"

Immediately the young queen spun around and made a run for it, disappearing among the pieces that made up the mountains of the junkyard. Mungojerrie, relieved, padded over to his and Rumpleteazer's socks, thankfully still intact save for the pieces of fish the Jellicle had pulled out. He took his by the opening, and plunged his arm in to feel for the carving knife. It was still safely under the false bottom. With that settled he took the other sock and made his way back to the cement pipe.

Before completely entering, Mungojerrie craned his head one more time to look out for the zigzagged queen. She was gone, same as before. Biting his lip as he turned back, he made a note to make sure she didn't mess with him from now on.


	5. The Minions

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I think I'm on a roll here! Second chapter in two days, hahaha. I'd like to thank raptoregg64, Lady Sorciere, and rawrrkitty for reviewing the previous chapter. You all brightened my morning and put a smile on my face! Spread the love and please, everyone enjoy the new chapter.

P.S. For anyone confused on how old MJ&RT are, by now they are just past fifteen years old as humans.

**

* * *

The Pariah Heroic**

**CHAPTER 5

* * *

**

Mungojerrie nearly slipped and fell, but managed to keep his grip to the ceiling. His claws dug hard into the wood and scrap metal that sheltered his tiny den and, using his human's carving knife, he plunged it into the material.

Light cracked through as the flakes of wood fell. The calico tom, clinging determinedly to the ceiling, pulled his knife out and continued to thrust it into the wood, dusty and fragile from having been built months ago. As a hole formed, he tossed the carving knife to the ground and began clawing at it, pulling at remaining fragments and opening it up until it was a near-perfect circle.

Mungojerrie smiled. Now his and Rumpleteazer's den had a sunning spot, to allow them privacy for nap hour instead of having to go out in the open and interact every breathing minute with the Jellicles. He climbed out of it slightly, trying not to be seen, and observed for a moment the decent view of the Junkyard he had. He reached over for a large piece of rusting sheet metal, and as he climbed back inside he pulled it over the sun hole. Now they had a cover for rainy days.

As Mungojerrie dropped back to the floor on his feet, Rumpleteazer entered, her sock sack flung over her shoulder. She looked up, raising her eyebrows.

"That's pretty, Jerrie," she observed, and set her sock down to inspect its contents.

"What'd you do today?" he asked.

"Stealing," replied Rumpleteazer matter-of-factly, pulling out some silver spoons and forks plus a tiny dollhouse figurine, shaped as a little human girl. "Just 'cause I'm on assignment doesn't mean I can't practice."

It was only their third day in the Junkyard, and already the two had settled quite comfortably in their new home. Two neatly arranged heaps of rags rested in the opposite corners of the den, serving as beds. Up to now they had managed to avoid talking to too many Jellicles; it was not part of the plan, they just disliked them naturally. Inevitably, though, the partners would have to talk to them if they wanted to figure out how the Heaviside Layer worked.

"You should come with me next time," Rumpleteazer looked to him. "You like to run the streets alone but you never come back with anything."

"That's not true," Mungojerrie said defensively. "I bring back flyers."

"That's not stealing, that's liftin' off the ground and peelin' off the walls," Rumpleteazer frowned, but went back to digging through her sock. She pulled a thick roll of paper out. "I got these on my way back. They're for you."

She rolled them out on the floor one-by-one, straightening the edges with her paw. She'd gotten two posters, partly battered from age but still clear. One was sharp, purple and dark with the odd silhouette of a human; _FRIGHT TRAIN LIVE AT KELSEY'S. _The other was a plain flat yellow, with black letters: _WAITRESS WANTED._

Mungojerrie grinned. "Thanks, Teaze." He picked them up from the ground to pin them beside his _ST MUNGO _poster. It was the only one he'd been able to find in his own sock sack after scaring away the young queen who'd been rummaging through it. It was sad; the rest of the den looked basic and bare without his flyers.

"Good morning!" a bright voice came from the ceiling.

Rumpleteazer screamed and ran into Mungojerrie's arms. Mungojerrie, just as surprised, tumbled over to the ground. After a split second of hysteria, the two looked up to see a female kitten looking at them from the sun hole.

"Oh," she blinked, her eyes wide beneath her long lashes. Her fur was dark and fluffy, and, under this light, Mungojerrie could swear it was a mix of black and purple. "I'm sorry to have scared you. It's just that none of us have seen you cats for the past two days! Munkustrap is calling for you out here." She stretched out a friendly paw.

The couple scrambled to their feet. The kitten still had her paw stretching towards them.

"It's alright," Rumpleteazer waved it away as politely as possible. "We'll go out the right way."

"Okay! He'll meet you outside," she smiled at them. "My name is Jemima. Please come and play with us sometime!" She disappeared from the sun hole, and the excited chatter of kittens could be heard outside.

Rumpleteazer groaned. "This had t'come sooner or later. What could ya reckon? All the kits ever do here is play, play, play." She dusted herself off and padded out through the exit, Mungojerrie following close behind.

"How do you _know _things so fast?" he asked, as she casually walked through the den tunnels. It wasn't like how Mungojerrie had stumbled through them blindly on the first day. The queen already _knew _the way out.

"It only feels fast because you never pay attention," she huffed haughtily, her chin held high.

"Then what do you suggest I do, then?" Mungojerrie said, annoyed.

"…Pay attention."

"Right," Mungojerrie scowled, but before he could continue from there, they were greeted by a burst of sunlight as the two emerged into the Junkyard's center. Standing there was Munkustrap, bearing all the regality and authority a Jellicle Leader was supposed to have; at least, a temporary Jellicle Leader.

"Mungojerrie, Rumpleteazer," he smiled at them, while giving Jemima a thankful pat on the shoulder. "Please, come with me, quickly."

The pair looked at each other, and shrugged. They began to follow the protector.

"You must understand," he said to them as they crossed over to a large old oven. "I should have done this yesterday, but I hadn't seen either of you. It's mandatory for newcomers… if we ever had any that often."

The oven had lost its cover, and had rusted in several parts. Peering inside, the metal trays had been removed – and so had the back of it. It led on to someone's den, it seemed. Munkustrap stepped in and the calicos followed.

They entered a den, much larger and somehow much brighter than Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer's. In one corner there was a bed, a pile of knitted blankets placed atop a stable platform of wooden boards. At the other side were two human's stools fashioned into feline-sized desks, one piled with balls of yarn and sketches of mice, the other with various papers covered in unreadable text.

On the wall across them was a passage into another part of the den, concealed with a blanket hanging from a bar. The sound of food sizzling on a pan, much like what Mungojerrie heard from the windows of human's homes, buzzed from behind it. And from there, Mungojerrie could hear singing.

"Jenny," Munkustrap called out. "The new cats are here."

"Oh, how wonderful," a voice answered from behind the curtain. "I'll be right there."

From the blanket emerged a bright, chubby queen. She was a mishmash of orange and yellow and black that twisted and turned into tiger stripes and leopard spots. She had a pleasant grin on her face, and she padded in humming some happy tune.

"Good morning!" she chirped.

"Good morning," Munkustrap replied, and turned to the black-and-orange pair. "I'd like you to meet Jennyanydots. She's our Gumbie Cat. She patches up any injuries, gives lessons, and cooks something nice for everyone every now and then. Jenny's indispensable, really."

"Munkustrap, you're too much," the queen named Jennyanydots laughed melodically, and tickled his cheek. Munkustrap, seeming unused to such affection, jerked his head away, but laughed nervously afterwards.

"Uh, well, moving on," he coughed, and stepped aside to motion to the two confused-looking black-and-orange cats behind him. "Jenny, this is Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer. They moved in two days ago. They're just here for a checkup."

"Alright, alright!" Jennyanydots nodded, and moved towards them. "You may stay put, Munkustrap. This won't take long."

The Gumbie Cat began with Rumpleteazer. She looked into her eye, examined her claws, made her say "aah". She gave her waist a good feel, with a mutter of "how skinny". Jennyanydots stepped back.

"You're quite fine, darling," she said. "How much do you move about each day, though? You're all muscle, no warmth."

"I… I like to run," answered Rumpleteazer. Of course she couldn't mention the stealing that occurred _before_ said running. "I run with Mungojerrie."

Jennyanydots turned to the tom, and smiled at him kindly. "And this is your brother, Mungojerrie?"

"No, madam. He's just my friend."

"I see." Jennyanydots went on about the same motions with him as with Rumpleteazer. She looked into his eye, and then tapped one of his claws with a finger to observe its sharpness. She had him open his mouth. She gave his side a pinch to examine his body fat, making Mungojerrie feel very uncomfortable.

"You're very healthy and sturdy, Mungojerrie," she nodded, straightening back up. "However, underneath your fur is some paleness. How often did your mother feed you before you were weaned?"

"…Weaned?" Mungojerrie blinked. He'd never heard the word before. He cast a side glance to Rumpleteazer, who was looking at him with a bit of worry. He turned back to the Gumbie Cat. "I'm sorry, madam, I never knew my mother."

"Oh," the bright expression on her face fell, and her ears wilted. "My darling, I'm so terribly sorry. I do hope you're doing fine now."

"Sure am, madam. I've got all I need."

"If that's what you say. You just need some good balance in both of you. Eat the right foods, but not _too _much. Drink the right things, but not _too _much. Exercise the right ways, but not _too _much."

"I'm sure they understand, Jenny," Munkustrap stepped in with a chuckle. "Thank you so much for your time."

"Of course, Munkustrap! Any time," she answered kindly as the three began to exit. "Oh, and Munkus, take care of yourself as well, dear. Sleep a wink more. When it's nap hour, _actually _take a nap."

"I will, I will."

The silver tabby and the calicos came out from the oven. The sun had not yet reached noon position. Every Jellicle was going about his own business, some inside the Junkyard, some out.

"I'll leave you to your own business now," Munkustrap told them cordially. "Good morning, both of you." He bounded off to a black and white patched tom who was calling his name.

"What does 'weaned' mean?" Mungojerrie asked, turning to Rumpleteazer.

"When your mum stopped feeding you," she answered, looking troubled. "But when the Gumbie lady asked you about it, I knew you wouldn'ta been able to answer."

"That's because I don't remember anything before the hero," Mungojerrie thought aloud. "Do _you _remember anything?"

"No, but Macavity told me all about it. My daddy was named Growltiger, and my mum was Griddlebone. Growltiger stopped at the London dock once a month. My mum would be waiting there every time, and they would spend the next night'n'day together. And when my mum showed me to him when I was born, he boarded ship again and never came back."

Mungojerrie blinked, amazed. He'd never known this about her. "And how'd you end up with Macavity?"

"My mum's next squeeze was him," Rumpleteazer shrugged. "I remember her being miles pretty. Macavity thought the same. Mum never seemed to like life with me, though, so she upped and left one day. After that, it was just me and the hero."

"And Tugger too, I guess," Mungojerrie smirked, but Rumpleteazer didn't seem to laugh. "What's wrong? I thought you liked the bloke."

"I do, I do," she nodded, looking uncomfortable. "It's just, well, that… he's never talked to me."

Mungojerrie stared at her. If that was true, then it would be understandable why Tugger didn't react to their arrival. "You said he called you princess."

"Sort of," she turned slightly away, rubbing her arm. "I was listenin' in when he was talking to Macavity a few moons ago. Macavity was all bragging about me, and Tugger was all, yeah yeah, we can talk about the little princess later, because he wanted to talk about other things."

"Then why do you _like _him so much?"

"…because he's so handsome!" Rumpleteazer squeaked, half-dreamily and half-guiltily.

The striped kitten named Etcetera trotted up to them suddenly. "Hello… you wouldn't happen to be talking about the Rum Tum Tugger, are you?"

Rumpleteazer paused, and then looked at Mungojerrie, then back at Etcetera. She narrowed her blue eyes. "Um… yes?"

"Isn't he the _handsomest_?" Etcetera cried out in a pitch that Mungojerrie did not know existed.

"Of _course _he is!" Rumpleteazer answered just as eagerly. Then she coughed. "Um, I mean, I only saw him when I first got here, but already I think he's the best looking tom _ever_!"

"Then come with me!" Etcetera grabbed her by the arm, pulling her towards a small group of female kittens. "We're talkin' about him right _now_!"

The queens left Mungojerrie standing alone, looking annoyed. He already understood that no queen was immune to the charms of Tugger's appearance, but what irked him this time was that Rumpleteazer had always implied that she knew the tom personally. It had set him into a perpetual state of worrying whether Tugger was going to reveal their true intentions to the tribe. But wouldn't he at least suspect them?

"Mungo-jeery!" a paw was suddenly slapped on his back, ruining his train of thought. It was a white tom with brown patches, wearing a smug smile.

"It's _Mungojerrie_."

"My bad, mate. Care to join the group of Jells that _isn't _raving over some over-fluffed hairball?" he gestured to a circle of young toms sitting together, all smiling and waving.

"I, well… alright, I guess."

"Fantastic! Fascinating accent by the way, mate." The brown-patched tom led him over to the toms, all looking quite cheerful.

"That's Pouncival, the youngest of us," he pointed at the tom that had fought with Etcetera on the first day. "Eleven moons.

"That's Admetus. He knows how to build things." The gray cat, seemingly the oldest of the bunch, smiled at him. "He's a year and a half. It was his idea to make the tunnel system instead of having all these separate dens." Then he motioned to another cat, completely black, save for his paws, his face and his chest.

"This is Mistoffelees-"

"Quaxo."

"Right. This is Mistoffelees-"

"_Quaxo_."

"Be quiet," the brown and white tomcat rolled his eyes, laughing. "This is Mistoffelees. He's a year old. He's main conjurer in the tribe, but he has this love for being humble and what, so he prefers we call him his normal second name, Quaxo. But… call him Mistoffelees for kicks."

"I can hear you," the black tuxedo cat scowled as the other toms laughed. He looked to Mungojerrie, his expression unchanged. "Your tour guide's name is Tumblebrutus, same age as me. If he weren't flipping about all the time I'm sure enough blood would travel to his brain to restore his rational thought. If you have any questions at all about the Junkyard, you're better off asking me, really."

"That's him practicing humility," the cat called Tumblebrutus said dryly. "Sit, sit! Let's chat." He pulled Mungojerrie down.

"So Mungo, where'd you come from?" Admetus said as he leaned back against an old paint can.

"We were born strays. Teaze and I roamed the streets every day before getting to the Jellicles," Mungojerrie replied with his rehearsed answer. He cast a quick look at Mistoffelees, chief conjurer. He probably had the best knowledge on magic, thus making him the best cat to ask about the Heaviside Layer. He made a mental note to speak with him later.

"Oh yeah, the Rumpleteazer girl!" Pouncival said, his ears flicking back and forth. "What's she like?"

"She's my best friend. First cat I ever really knew."

"She's probably a better pick than what we have here," Tumblebrutus laughed. "I mean, our queens _are _pretty, but they're all either off with some other lucky blokes or swoonin' over the Tugger."

"Hey Mungojerrie," said Mistoffelees. "What do you think of the queens our age?"

"Um," Mungojerrie's eyebrows furrowed. "Could you name them up for me?"

"Victoria. The white one."

"She's really pretty, though she's only talked to me and Teaze once. Seems nice from what I see."

"Etcetera?"

"She's stupid and annoying!" Pouncival whined. "She's always nosing in on my business and talking about the stupid Tugger."

"We asked for _Mungo_'s opinion, not yours, you dolt," Tumblebrutus swatted at his shoulder. He looked back at Mungojerrie. "Well?"

"Real cheerful, I reckon? Teaze made friends with her off the bat. They had one thing in common and that's all what mattered," the black and orange tom grumbled. The young toms all laughed; they all seemed to understand. It made him feel a slight more comfortable.

"What about Jemima?"

"Just met her today. Her fur's right real interesting. She seems the friendliest out of them all."

"Yeah, doesn't she?" Tumblebrutus grinned.

"Tumble fancies 'Mima," Mistoffelees laughed out loud. "Shush, don't tell anybody."

"You ugly Peke!" Tumblebrutus pounced onto the black cat in a rage. "You're a darn right git! I told ya not to tell the new tom! I told ya!"

"Don't worry about them," Admetus waved away Mungojerrie's gawking expression. "They're best friends, really. They fight like this all the time."

"Moving on," Pouncival inched away from the two toms clawing and biting at each other, staying at a safe distance. "What about Electra?"

Mungojerrie stared at him, clueless. "Electra?"

"Brown one. Got some orange. Hates everyone."

"Don't be _too _nasty, Pounce," said Admetus. "I think she just likes to go off alone sometimes."

At this point Mungojerrie realized who Electra was. No wonder he'd never heard of her up until now. She was that young queen who he'd found all alone on his first day, looking through his sock bag, pointing out the flaws of his plan. He remembered the patterns on her fur – sharp, dark, zigzagging.

"No, sorry," he shook his head at the toms. "I don't know any Electra."

"Figures," Pouncival shrugged. "She doesn't talk to anybody but the queen kits and her dad."

"Who in blimes is her dad?"

"Munkustrap."

"We could list the family trees of Jellicles all day," Mistoffelees piped up casually, holding Tumblebrutus to the ground. "But I'm sure our guest has more important things he wants to learn about."

"Hang on a tick," said Tumblebrutus, pushing Mistoffelees off. "Guest? You mean you aren't staying with us forever?"

"Well, um," Mungojerrie shifted in his place. "Munkustrap said he would give us two a moon-long to stay here for."

"I don't know if it's any worth, but I say you should stay with us even after that," Admetus offered. "It's much safer here than on the streets, anyway. Don't you like it here?"

"The Junkyard is the safest place in all of London!" Pouncival exclaimed. "Well, granted, I've never been anywhere else, but the Junkyard's plenty fine, really."

"It's true, actually," said Mistoffelees. "I'm sorry for calling you a guest. I think you should stay with us, as well."

"Please?" Tumblebrutus grinned slyly, throwing an arm around Mungojerrie's shoulders.

"Well…" Mungojerrie began, and turned slightly to look at Rumpleteazer, who was chatting vibrantly with the younger queens - minus Electra. Her face seemed bright, and she leaned in closer to whisper to them until her face disappeared from his view.

The sun reached noon position.

The Junkyard glittered.

"I'm sure that'll work out just right."


	6. The Femme Fatale

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry for the delay! School is making me reaaaaally busy. Good news is, I'm watching Cats live _again _tomorrow! Yaaay! :D Please enjoy the new chapter. Hopefully here things will start picking up. Thanks for the reviews, everyone! Much appreciated.

* * *

**The Pariah Heroic**

**CHAPTER 6

* * *

**

Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer were settling quite nicely into the Jellicle Junkyard. And it was terrifying.

Eight was the usual time of rising for the cats. Of course they could sleep in the entire day if they wanted to, but then they would miss breakfast at eight-twenty: alley rats hunted and killed by the older Jellicles (Jennyanydots forbade the eating of mice. They were her students, after all). At twelve-thirty they had lunch: a catch of fish brought back by the adult queens after a morning spent at the dock. Feline life in the Junkyard mimicked that of a lion's – the females hunted for food at sunrise, with the males staying behind to protect and guard the tribe.

Nap hour at four was never missed. Despite no actual tribe law even mentioning it, it was strictly observed by everyone (except Munkustrap, of course). At six was supper, an every-cat-for-itself feast where each must hunt for his own meal. Parents hunted extra for their kittens, and at the same time taught the eldest of their litters to do the same. If Jennyanydots was feeling generous, the Gumbie Cat would cook something special for everyone.

It was the morning after he'd spoken with the younger toms. Mungojerrie was trying to reason with himself that he'd claimed he would stay because it was part of gaining their trust. The night before, he had talked about it briefly with Rumpleteazer.

"_Do you like it here?" he said, as they began to curl up on their beds._

_Rumpleteazer licked her lips, her ears flicking back and forth, as if carefully considering her answer. "It's nice to have a living spot all to ourselves. And, well, other queens to talk to."_

"_But?"_

"_But you know you can't trust the Jellicles. And you know they can't trust you."_

Early in the morning Mungojerrie had woken up. Rumpleteazer was still asleep in her corner, shivering slightly. Taking a rag from his bed, Mungojerrie gingerly placed it on top of her. He climbed out through the sun hole (another convenient use for it, he'd realized. He would never be able to learn the tunnels) and out into the Jellicle Junkyard.

A misty Big Ben overhead read six o'clock. Under thick London fog the Junkyard looked like a wasteland in need of a hero. The tops of the garbage mountains could not be seen. If any of the toms were keeping watch over the territory, Mungojerrie wouldn't have known.

He crawled out through a small entrance in the fence, stepping onto the cold pavement of the outside city. He would go for a run, like always, every morning. He would practice his stealth skills by sneaking through a human's store unnoticed, but unlike Rumpleteazer never stole anything unless he felt like it. But he was always willing to grab a few posters.

Mungojerrie began with just the street encircling the Junkyard. He picked up his pace in walking, until the silver of the Junkyard fence faded to a blur. The place had become so strangely familiar to him that the thought of actually leaving Macavity to stay permanently with the Jellicle tribe sent shivers down his back.

The tom broke into a run, braving the morning chill. Cars sped by on the road parallel to him, the city sped by, until his sight had nothing but flying colors.

Today was the day he would report to Macavity, and he was a little less than serene.

"_Every seven days, you report back to me," the hero brought them outside the entrance of Headquarters. "I will send a messenger to signal to you that it's safe to return to report the progress of your mission."_

"_And if we don't see a messenger?" Rumpleteaser asked, shouldering her sock bag._

"_It means you have failed the mission."_

Mungojerrie ran right into an object.

No, a living thing, it seemed – and the two rolled roughly on the street until they crashed into the fence.

Mungojerrie hit the wire with the side of his face, collapsing to the ground headfirst. The inside of his head throbbed loudly.

He regained regular hearing after the next few seconds, but was still upside down.

The cat he had run into groaned as it picked itself up from the street. Its legs were wobbly for a moment, facing away from him. Mungojerrie growled under his breath. He hated bad beginnings to his morning. The calico tom fumbled around to get himself upright again.

"You're right flippin' blind, you are," he snarled, a split-second before the stranger turned around –

-it was a queen, a young queen, in tortoiseshell markings that were etched sharply into her deep brown fur.

"It wasn't me who was facing you," Electra pointed out dryly.

Mungojerrie blinked; he didn't think she was going to answer back. He wanted to punch himself in the face for just standing there wordlessly, looking like an idiot.

"You're that new cat who came in Monday, yes?" the young queen cocked her head to one side, as if she were examining his face."You're not skinny enough to be a stray."

First the fish, and now his appearance. Mungojerrie figured that if he were to be found out, it was going to be by this nuisance of a Jellicle. Nonetheless, he resumed his image of friendly newcomer and stepped back, clearing his throat.

"I did pretty well for myself back on the streets," he pretended to shrug noncommittally. "Teaze and I stole what we needed. We learned to sneak, and we learned to fish while growin' up."

Electra blinked, looking genuinely impressed. Then she laughed. "That's more fun than how I grew up," she shook her head with a smile, and extended a paw. "I'm Electra, by the way."

"I know," Mungojerrie said. Then he noticed her surprised expression, and struggled to explain. "Uh, well, I talked to some of the other toms yesterday. I think they mentioned you somewhat."

"Oh," Electra nodded. Her ears wilted slightly, and she seemed nervous. "They don't say they hate me, do they?"

"What? Of course not," Mungojerrie shook his head vigorously, maybe a bit too much. "They just think you don't like them. You never talk to them."

"Alright, that makes sense," the queen looked away. "It's true. I only ever talk to Etcetera, Victoria, Jemima and my father."

"Your father's Munkustrap, right?" said Mungojerrie, remembering that one crucial fact. "The big Jellicle guardian? How in blimes is he lettin' you out at this hour of morning?"

Electra laughed this strange, non-kittenish laugh. "I like to think he trusts me enough. I just really love to walk here early in the day."

"What a wonder," Mungojerrie grinned, trying to be charming. "So do I. Do we continue our walk?"

Electra grinned back, slightly. "Sure."

The two cats padded around the corner, still circling the Junkyard. The fog had cleared partly, but it was still cold. The main fence entrance was a few meters away when they slowed down again.

"Why don't you talk to anyone else?" asked Mungojerrie.

"I would if I felt like it. Etcy and Vic and Mima are my best friends, so I sort of _have _to talk to them. And I still have lessons with my dad to take up my time."

"Lessons?" Mungojerrie edged in a bit closer. Munkustrap was son of the Leader. Would the lessons have any connection to that? "What do you mean, lessons?"

"Not really anything," said Electra. "I accompany him on his guarding shifts. He points out to me what to look for. I have to learn what to do once he moves up a rank."

Of course. Electra was the granddaughter of Old Deuteronomy. At one point or another, Munkustrap would become Jellicle Leader, and once his reign was over it would be grown-up Electra's turn.

"I know what you're thinking," Electra giggled a bit to herself, sounding unusually excited as they continued to walk. "Electra, first ever Queen Leader. It sounds so _powerful_, doesn't it?" Jokily she struck a pose, mimicking her father's ever-proud image.

Mungojerrie smiled at her, sincerely. It was frankly nice that a young queen who had seemed so dark and distant was able to lighten up. "Old Deuteronomy, Old Munkustrap, and Old Electra," he said. "Sounds really funny, you reckon?"

"Yeah," Electra answered. She looked up at the calico tom, and at that second he noticed her green eyes. "You must understand. For most of my life it's been just me and my father. Everything I know, I learned from him."

"You and him?" Mungojerrie repeated, surprised. "What about your mum?"

"Electra."

The two nearly jumped. Mungojerrie turned to look for the source of the voice, and saw someone standing at the main entrance of the Junkyard. It was Munkustrap, looking as if he hadn't slept since his coming-of-age.

"Good morning, father," said Electra, her paws held behind her.

"Come back inside, El. It's too cold this morning for a walk. And your grandfather is returning tomorrow, we have to prepare." The young queen obediently stepped forward, but not before turning slightly to Mungojerrie.

"Will you walk with me again tomorrow?" she asked in a lowered voice.

"If you want," Mungojerrie replied. Without reaction she walked off into the Junkyard, her father watching her. The tabby looked back to the black and orange tom, his green eyes guarded but polite.

"Thank you very much for protecting my kit, Mungojerrie," he said. Then he stepped aside. "Would you like to come back in?"

Mungojerrie paused, and then nodded. It was a relief to him that Munkustrap wasn't mad, but it was a shock as well. He'd expected his limbs to be torn off. Cautiously he walked by the protector, with a respectful half-bow in his direction.

"If you ask me, you should get yourself a few hours' more sleep," said the tabby to Mungojerrie as he laid a paw on Electra's shoulder. "Breakfast won't come till eight-twenty on the tower clock. I'll be speaking with my daughter now." The pair, silver and rust, climbed wordlessly up to the top of the car trunk, and disappeared into the trash.

Well, even if he was inside the Junkyard now it didn't mean he had to stop his morning run. The sky was still cloudy gray, not yet cracked by the sunrise. Mungojerrie bounded off to the side of the Junkyard, making use of the space clear of garbage.

He raced around it in a wide circle. In the perfect silence, all Mungojerrie could hear were his own paws hitting the ground at every leap.

Suddenly he tripped on a rock, and was sent tumbling. He skidded to a very, very painful stop.

"Son of a…" Mungojerrie groaned, too ached to peel his face off the ground. Maybe he could just lie there for a while. Like Munkustrap said, get himself more sleep. Did Munkustrap ever do that? It didn't seem likely.

"I have to go, I have to go."

"You don't want to."

"You know I don't. Let me go, for now, luv."

It was strange how many cats were awake before waking time. Curious, Mungojerrie pricked his ears up to listen, still on the ground.

"Well, _you _couldn't do so for me very well," a tom's voice purred.

A soft, sultry laugh. "I have to go, luv. Queens have to go to the dock. Fishing time. You want your lunch, don't you?"

"Gorgeous, you _gave _me my lunch. And breakfast. And dinner…"

"Is everything a come-on for you?" the feminine voice asked, but laughed after. "Luv, I've got to go."

"Meet me after."

"Meet you after," she replied sweetly. "Now let go of me, you bastard."

"Tell me you love me."

"Later."

_Mother of Bast, what in blimes is this? _It sounded like the World's Most Self-Hating Couple. Mungojerrie shifted nearer.

"Tell me you love me, it's easy."

"It's easy to say it, hard to mean it."

"Are we trying to be philosophical here? I just want you to say it, beauty."

"I love you. Bye-bye, Tums."

"I love you too."

From the narrow view he had, Mungojerrie spotted someone step out from a den tunnel – a queen sleek and tall. Even under the mist he saw the brilliant red shine off her fur. She walked elegantly away, her tail swinging in a slow, lazy motion, before slinking out through a minor entrance in the fence.

The tomcat who followed was one awfully familiar. He stepped out from the same place underneath the woodwork, leaning against some discarded furniture item. The tom silently watched as the queen disappeared into the street to do her job. Yawning, he ran a paw through the fur on his mane, and turned to go back in. He stopped, and looked directly at Mungojerrie.

"I don't know if we've run out of living quarters," the handsome tom said through heavy-lidded eyes, "But I'm sure there are places to sleep much more comfortable than the floor."

Mungojerrie blinked, and then realized that he was still lying flat on the ground. He quickly got up. It seemed that today he was going to specialize in looking like a complete idiot.

"Sorry about that," Mungojerrie muttered. "I tripped on my morning walk. My foot's all sore now."

"Well, we're all still alive," the tom shrugged, and held out a paw. "Call me Tugger."

"I'm Mungojerrie," the calico tom answered, shaking his paw. He was careful not to blurt out "I know" again.

"Oh yeah. The new guy," Tugger nodded. He surveyed the empty Junkyard. "It makes me wonder why you chose this place instead of anywhere else. I mean, nothing ever _happens _here."

"Um, well, I guess that's why… my friend and I chose it," said Mungojerrie, carefully not to mention Rumpleteazer in case Tugger would recognize the name. "It's normal. It's… safe. It ain't like the streets."

"Huh," Tugger said, not looking back to him. "That's true." Mungojerrie studied his face a bit; he was actually just about as old as Munkustrap, except without the creases and lines of worry. He looked a bit to the side, where the lovely red queen had vanished. Was she the same age, too?

Tugger seemed to have noticed his line of view, and grinned lazily. "Bomb's a real beauty, right? You can't touch her though, she's mine. Two full years and we're still brilliant together. I mean, we sort of keep it a secret, but we're happy anyway."

"Secret? Why?"

"Well…" the black-and-gold tom frowned, unsettled. "She used to be Munkustrap's mate, way back." He scratched at the fur on his head. "I reckon you've met him? Tall, grumpy with stripes?"

"Wait a tick… Munkustrap's mate?"

"That's a whole other story," Tugger waved his paw with a grin, then put a friendly arm around Mungojerrie. "What matters is we're all happy, yeah?"

"Well, yeah, I suppose," shrugged Mungojerrie. This Tugger bloke wasn't so bad after all. After all, he _was _Macavity's best friend. Supposedly.

The taller tom continued to smile at him, but it eventually faded, and he squinted a bit.

"Have I seen you before?"

"No," Mungojerrie said abruptly, and ducked out of Tugger's reach, racing off towards the cement pipe.

"I thought you said your foot was sore!" Tugger called out.

Mungojerrie didn't turn to answer. This was all a bad move, a very bad move. He hadn't thought the idea through, to talk so closely to the one cat that would completely recognize them. He ran through the tunnel system in search of his and Rumpleteazer's den.

By the time he arrived there, his partner was still lying peacefully in her bed, the rag he'd placed on top of her slightly twisted and folded. Catching his breath, the calico tom realized that he'd just navigated the tunnels without a moment of hesitation. Gently, he knelt down and rubbed Rumpleteazer's arm.

"Morning, Teaze."

"No," she mumbled, her face buried into her mats.

"Guess what? I went through the tunnels right, just like you told me to."

"Good."

Mungojerrie padded over to his own corner, and sat on his pile of mats, watching her sleep. Today hadn't yet begun.


	7. The Report

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you all very much for the reviews! I'm a little sad to say this chapter is my suckiest yet. I have a little plan for each event that'll happen in each chapter, and I guess this one moved too slowly. However, I hope you enjoy the bit of Munkustrap/Demeter fluff, because ANY fic that features Munkustrap/Demeter always needs some good ol' sappy sweetness. MJ and RT's first Macavity report, the introduction of an all-too familiar character, and some increasingly wordy looks into the past. Uh... enjoy?

* * *

**The Pariah Heroic**

**CHAPTER 7

* * *

**

Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer leaned quietly against the Junkyard fence, waiting for their signal.

"Red curtains," Mungojerrie pointed out.

"Red door."

"Red wrapper."

"I saw that one first," Rumpleteazer whined.

"I said it first."

"Fine, fine, but dibs on the next red thing." Rumpleteazer slumped back against the fence.

The couple of cats had been waiting for the messenger since nine-thirty. The Big Ben in the distance chimed eleven, and Mungojerrie buried his face into his knees. He had learned to loathe that sound – to hear it every hour, to count its every ring. It kept him and Rumpleteazer lying awake in the nighttime, and they could do nothing but talk idly to each other about whatever could block out that dreadful chiming. Last night was a conversation about the abundance of red objects.

"Who do ya think's the messenger?" asked Mungojerrie.

"What I'd kill t'know," Rumpleteazer shrugged, lazily picking at the fur on her shoulder. "It can't be Ventis because the bloke's too old to walk half a yard."

"It can't be Yowler because the hero always wants him in Headquarters."

"It can't be Kieva because he's always busy studying London areas for him."

"It can't be Limenlink because he's a right moron."

"What about Jyx?" suggested Rumpleteazer, and Mungojerrie shuddered slightly. That was the henchcat he'd scratched between the eyes the evening Yowler had found him as a kitten. If _he _was the one coming to fetch them for Macavity, Mungojerrie's amount of blood would probably be reduced by half by the time they got to Headquarters.

"What if it's the boss himself?" Mungojerrie joked, smiling slyly at his partner.

"You dolt. He told us he'd send someone, not his-self. You never pay attention. Pay attention!"

"I'm just saying, give it a thought!" Mungojerrie laughed. "He'll be all slow and suave and smile at us sweetly. He's going to say, Teaser, dahling. Teaser."

"Oh flippin' Bast," the queen grabbed her ears. "You do his voice horrible."

"Rumple, my dahling, how are you?" Mungojerrie continued his poor impression of the hero. He edged closer to Rumpleteazer, trying his best to irritate her.

"I'm plenty fine," the calico queen fluttered her eyes in a sickeningly sweet manner. "I'm having such fun with my stupid partner, Jerriemungo!"

"Teaser darling!" Mungojerrie cackled.

Rumpleteazer lunged forward to pin him to the ground, but this time Mungojerrie was wiser. He grabbed her wrists before she could reach him, and they began to wrestle on the pavement. Rumpleteazer swiped at his face with her unsheathed claws, and he barely dodged it every time. As he twisted his head side to side, something silvery gray caught the side of his sight.

He grabbed Rumpleteazer's wrists again, and directed her to the old, bent over queen who had arrived in front of them.

"Are you… the messenger?" he inquired.

The gray queen, in her shabby coat and downcast eyes, nodded. She held out a paw, with flecks of old red polish on her dulled claws.

"Macavity calls," she croaked. She blinked, in a slow, practiced way.

"Really now," Rumpleteaser said bemusedly, and looked at Mungojerrie. He also turned to her, and nodded.

"Macavity calls," he repeated, shrugging. They took each other's paws and began to follow the old queen to Headquarters.

* * *

At first glance, she was the same color as a warm night, black and yellow. She carried herself humbly, not gracefully, and the only time she ever pulled her eyes from the ground was when someone called out her first name. She had no second name, and if she had a third, no cat would be able to find out.

When she spoke, her mouth barely moved, but somehow you could hear her voice at the subtle twitch of an ear. According to cultured Jellylorum, that signified that she sang beautifully.

She had not yet adapted to a Jellicle's life from a regular cat's – she still slept most of the day and was tense and quick in the latest hours of night.

And when she had nightmares in the early morning, Munkustrap was always there to soothe her.

Demeter had come to the Junkyard about ten months ago, and she was beginning to laugh again. What brought her there, nobody yet knew, but as long as she smiled, nobody minded.

Munkustrap liked her very much. She was close and loving, and had an absolutely magnificent sense of humor he was certain showed up more often back before she'd been hurt. A full year younger than him, she was a queen of quiet wisdom, and surprisingly turning out to be a fitting new mother to his aloof Electra.

"I used to wish cats would live forever," Demeter said, as the pair sat together atop the car hood, keeping watching over the Junkyard. "I thought: we were smart enough to handle eternity, yes? We had a lot we could do."

"And what changed?" Munkustrap asked, affectionately brushing a paw at her cheek. If Alonzo was best at distracting him, Demeter was best at making him forget the rest of the world was there.

"I came here," the golden black queen answered, touching her fingers to her mate's wrist. "This Heaviside Layer you have… it's a much more beautiful idea."

Munkustrap nodded slightly, and using his paw, he tipped her chin up to look directly into her blue eyes. "You're not considering going up there so soon, are you?"

For several moments, they gazed at each other.

Demeter broke away with a bright laugh.

"We're both unbearably sentimental, aren't we?"

* * *

A week away from Headquarters made Mungojerrie eagerly welcome its familiar dimness. The scruffy gray queen brought them in through the entrance of the abandoned butcher's shop, and he and Rumpleteazer rejoiced in seeing their real home again. Fallen objects, decrepit ceiling and all.

They stood before the passage into Macavity's main quarters, and the old queen stepped back.

"He'll be in there," she said simply, and padded away into the shadows.

"We're finally seein' the hero again," said Rumpleteazer, grinning at Mungojerrie.

"Well, let's have a look, yeah?" he replied, and pushed away the curtain to see the boss.

Instead of a dark red cat sitting upon that infamous throne, they were greeted by the Hidden Paw in a trance, his eyes closed, his hands spread open at his sides. He faced slightly upwards, his eyebrows furrowing in concentration.

And he was floating several inches above the ground.

Rumpleteazer's cry of shock was drowned out by Mungojerrie's bewildered yell of several curse words.

* * *

Old Deuteronomy sat heavily by the vicarage wall. It was almost time to go home.

He'd sent a message to his son, Munkustrap that he would be returning by tomorrow from his mourning. This period of solemnity, which was more for formality than anything else, admittedly brought him quite down. Then again, Noily had been a particularly lovely wife.

A few meters away, a mouse was trapped inside a paint can that had fallen over on top of it. Old Deuteronomy raised his paw and lifted it off him, letting the animal raise its nose, verifying its freedom, and scurry away. He'd always told himself to reserve his magic for important occasions, but, Everlasting Cat strike, he was Jellicle Leader. Who would do something about it?

Noily Prat had been sweet, and impossibly polite. When Old Deuteronomy had selected her to become his ninth mate, she'd clasped her paws in front of her, performing a slight bow, saying, "Thank you, sir."

However, after the formal ceremony of declaring her as Leader's Mate, in the privacy of their home she did everything she could to keep him happy. In the late afternoons when he would return, tired from conferences with the Thoron and Ret tribes, she would have fresh fish prepared for his dinner. He would lie down on his bed to find his cushions pre-fluffed and his mattress well-cleaned. She bore him several litters of kits, some died, and some lived, and some left. When he was gloomy over one or two of his kittens leaving the tribe to pursue a life of their own, she would offer an elegant, bright-orange paw to stroke into his fur, massage his head. Her fur, he remembered, glowed fire under Jellicle Moons.

Most said she'd died from her inherent weakness; she was born without fight in her blood. As they advanced in years Noily lacked Old Deuteronomy's resilience in old age, and only months after the Jellicle Ball, she passed away on a peaceful Junkyard morning. She'd missed the next opening of Heaviside Layer. And that meant Old Deuteronomy would not be able to find her again.

Old Deuteronomy sighed and closed his eyes, humming absentmindedly. He was going to miss her, brilliant fur and impossible politeness and all.

The wife before Noily Prat was a gorgeous, vivacious young queen named Grizabella. She wasn't a Jellicle, actually; she roamed from one tribe to the other, spreading her legend. Old Deuteronomy's marriage to the famed Glamour Cat was more for status than anything else. He would have what every other tom in London wanted. He'd been much older than she was, but at that time he was still quite handsome – his fur not yet lazily unkempt, gravity more merciful to his belly and his wrinkles. And, being a London cat so powerful, Grizabella of course adored him.

It was only after she bore Munkustrap that her infatuation faded. According to their writings, the Everlasting Cat punished couples who were incompatible by granting them only one kitten instead of the usual two to five. Grizabella realized that she had lost the adventure she'd so loved, and with Munkustrap not yet even weaned she left one night to again travel the world. The last time anyone ever saw the Glamour Cat was when she boarded ship with a feline pirate named Growltiger.

* * *

Macavity opened his eyes, and as he did he came slowly back to the ground. Before him were two young and utterly confused cats. Uncharacteristically, his mouth spread into a smile.

"How excellently the two of you have grown," he said proudly, as a father would tell his kits. "It's only been seven days and both of you are carrying yourselves like true cats would." He advanced, and saw that the calicos were still rather stunned from his previous position.

"Levitation is a common effect of deep meditation," the hero said matter-of-factly. "…but only for cats who know magic. However, what you just saw now was _learned _magic, as opposed to inborn magic, which is much more powerful." And then he simply stood there, as if he were waiting for a greeting.

"Boss…" Rumpleteazer breathed, nearly speechless, but soon she broke into a grin as well. "It's great to see you again, boss!"

"And it's wonderful to see _you _again, Rumple," replied Macavity, who took a step back to look at her. "You've grown excellently." He extended a paw and, in the usual fashion, petted her head. Rumpleteazer purred with kitten-like delight.

Macavity cast a slight smile at her, but soon his gazed moved to settle on the young tom to her left, who had not yet said a word.

Mungojerrie breathed a little. The hero was still incredibly tall, so he had to bend his neck partially backwards to look back up at him.

"It's great to see you, boss."

"And the same for you," the hero said. "You look outstanding, Mungojerrie. Have you been continuing your training?"

"We both of us run every day, boss," Rumpleteazer piped up in place of her partner. "And we like to practice sneaking."

"Good, good," Macavity nodded, and then he retreated to his throne, seating himself regally. "And now begins your report. Rumpleteazer, what have you learned of the Jellicles?"

"Plenty things," she answered eagerly. "Um, uh… they worship this sort of being… the Everlasting Cat. I'm not just yet sure if it has something to do with the Heaviside. Jellylorum records every single tidbit that happens every single day, and she keeps her files somewhere in Munkustrap's office-sort-place. And, uh, every Jellicle Ball they do two main things: they choose an outsider cat to join them officially as a Jellicle, and they choose a Jellicle to go to the Heaviside Layer."

"And who are they considering presently to join their tribe?"

"Um… whowassit… Bustopher Jones. Bustopher Jones o' the Meladou tribe."

Macavity nodded. "Excellent work, Teaser, but of course we have far to go." He turned to Mungojerrie once again. "And, good Jerrie, what have you found?"

In the split-second he had to think, Mungojerrie racked his brain for any information he'd gathered. Son of a Peke! He'd spent all his time hanging around those toms. What could he talk about? Munkustrap? Jennyanydots? Electra, maybe?

"Their conjurer, Mistoffelees, keeps it low," he started, recalling everything he'd talked about with the young toms. "He doesn't do any magic 'less it's called for. Old Deuteronomy's returning from his mourning tomorrow. And, well, after Old Deuteronomy dies, Munkustrap'll take the lead, and after him is his kit Electra."

Macavity sat up a bit, seeming intrigued. "Munkustrap, of all cats?" he said. "You'd think, to continue opening the Heaviside, they'd elect Mistoffelees…"

As Macavity contemplated this, Rumpleteazer and Mungojerrie traded glances with each other. This was their first report, how were they to know if they'd done well or not?

"This will be enough for now," the hero suddenly said, looking back at them. "But be forewarned that our next meetings will not be as brief. I will interrogate you, extract every piece of information you gather. I expect the two of you find plenty of it."

"Yes boss," the duo answered simultaneously, caught off-guard with his sudden graveness.

"It is admirable that you are continuing your training in the Junkyard. I urge that you add to it the continuation of your reading lessons. Remember your alphabets. I want to know what Jellylorum has in her files."

"Yes boss," answered the calicos, though a little less enthusiastically.

"I have said it repeatedly, but I admire how the two of you have grown in such a short span of time," said Macavity. "You may go. I will see you again in seven days. Oh, and Mungojerrie – clean up your language a bit."

"…Yes boss," Mungojerrie said, embarrassed. He made a mental note not to be frightened if ever he saw another cat floating in mid-air.

"Goodbye, then."

"Goodbye, boss!" Rumpleteazer replied cheerily, and danced out through the exit. Mungojerrie turned to follow her, but paused.

"Boss?"

"Yes, Mungojerrie?" the hero said, calmly.

"I just wanted to know… Rumpleteazer knows her past, knows how she was born… would ya know anything about… me?"

Macavity raised an eyebrow. "You, Mungojerrie?"

"The night you found me. Did you know anything? I just want to know anything."

"Well," Macavity leaned back in his throne, considering this. "There are many reasons you would find a stray in an alley. Your parents might have abandoned you. You were old enough to walk then, so you must have wandered out on your own accord. And worse, but still possible, your mother and father might have been killed."

"I… okay," said Mungojerrie, just disappointed that there was no certain answer. "I'll… I'll go now."

"Goodbye, Mungojerrie."

"…Goodbye, boss."

Mungojerrie emerged from Headquarters, where Rumpleteazer was waiting. She turned to see him and smiled.

"I can't wait for the next meeting," she said.

"Why in blimes?"

Rumpleteazer thought about this. "I don't know."

He took her arm, still thinking about how Macavity had answered his question about his past. "That's okay. Let's go home."

Rumpleteazer stared at him. "Home?"

"I – I mean - … let's go back to the Junkyard."

She nodded, looking off at the street that stretched on into the rest of London. "That sounds good to me."

And the thought of relaxing for another seven days sounded wonderful to Mungojerrie.


	8. The Meanwhiles

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm so glad I had this weekend off from school! I was able to finish up another chapter. This one ain't a shorty! It was incredibly fun to write, though. I must admit, I began this fic thinking it would be purely from Mungojerrie's POV, but I've had so much fun writing about everyone on the side, too. Including Electra, who has really, REALLLYYYY started to grow on me.

So please enjoy this new chapter! Thank you, my loves, for all your awesome reviews!

* * *

**The Pariah Heroic**

**CHAPTER 8

* * *

**

"Your lessons sure are getting longer and longer," Etcetera stated as Electra walked into the den, holding a pile of paper in her hands. It was another hot night, which had every Jellicle move out into the open to bask under a copper moon. It seemed it was only the two of them who had retreated indoors.

"Cets, what're you doing in my room?"

"I wait for you to come back from your lessons," the pale striped queen blinked, innocently. She patted the spot beside her on the woven mats that made up Electra's bed. "A queen needs her best friend to talk to at the end of the day, yeah?"

Electra grinned. "Yeah."

"What're you holding?"

"Your mum's records," answered the tortoiseshell queen, flinging out her arms to throw Jellylorum's files onto her bed. "My dad says I have to arrange them right so my grandfather knows what went on while he was gone for mourning."

"Why did he make you do it?" asked Etcetera, frowning.

"My dad thinks I should get used to having work. He wants me to try out being Recorder before I'm Protector."

"But you're not supposed to have a tribe job till you're a year and a half."

"I'm a year; it's close enough."

"No it's not," objected Etcetera, but did not continue to argue. As Electra sat beside her on her bed, Etcetera smiled gleefully. "Don't you love Rumpleteazer? She's so funny!"

"Is that the new queen?" Electra asked, clueless.

"Oh, that's right, you haven't talked to her because of your lessons," Etcetera rolled her eyes, but giggled. "Don't you have any time to talk to the new cats, El?"

Electra opened her mouth to mention Mungojerrie, but considered this. She thought of the walk she had planned with him tomorrow morning.

"No," she answered. "No, I don't."

* * *

The Tribe Protector sighed. On top of his makeshift desk (made from three very thick human's books placed on each other) were various papers spread all over, each containing unsettling, anonymous threats. They were often found tucked through a narrow part in the Junkyard fence, or thrown as a crumpled note through the openings. Main suspects usually turned out to be troublemaking street cats, or whoever decided to make themselves enemy to the most powerful, secluded tribe in London, or, Everlasting Cat forbid, Macavity's people.

He'd sent Electra back to their den half an hour ago, armed with a pile of records and a message for her stepmother Demeter that he would come home soon as possible. He didn't expect that he would live up to that very well. He had two worlds to attend to, he supposed. One was the Jellicle Tribe, unique and chaotic. The other was his patchwork of a family.

There was his father, Old Deuteronomy, a figure so wise and admired that he knew – certainly no doubts, Munkustrap absolutely _knew _– he could never possibly match with him. In one way that fact depressed him, but in another it relieved him of all the expectations he knew the Jellicles would have.

There was Demeter. There were two sides to his mate. One was the good her, brilliant, beautiful, exceptionally witty. The other was when she was plagued by nightmares, when she reverted to a scared, shivering slip of a thing. For both sides, Munkustrap knew that all he would be able to manage was to throw his arms around her.

And also there was Electra. Where could he begin with his Electra? She was intelligent, and uncomplaining, and brave, and so forgiving. He was afraid that the very minute she came of age all these traits would make way for the angry and willful headache of a girl that all young queens turned out to be, but who was he to stop her when he could admit that he expected too much from her? She deserved to hate him, he supposed (he just hoped she never would).

And then there was Macavity. Over the two years that he'd been gone, his legendary half-brother had faded to nothing more than a memory at the back of his head. How he was, what he'd done, those traces of Macavity had all retreated and shrunken and faded into one single fact inside of Munkustrap's mind. And that fact was: he hated him.

"Munkustrap, my dear," said the Gumbie Cat as she stepped into his office, a concerned expression on her face.

"Good evening, Jenny," Munkustrap said over his shoulder.

"Have you said the same to your daughter?"

"I have, Jenny, thank you very much," answered the tabby, irked. "And I would appreciate it if you didn't criticize my parenting skills."

Jennyanydots laughed gently. "I wasn't! I know very well that Electra loves you wholeheartedly. It's very true, what Alonzo says. You always exaggerate."

Munkustrap looked annoyed. "Is that what he's telling everyone?"

"I just wanted to check up on you. You've looked awful lately."

"Look at this," Munkustrap said, raising one of the threats. _GET READY JELLICAL COWERDS_. "There's been an onslaught of them lately. We appear vulnerable since my father is away. I will admit that it's true. As of now we're quite weak."

"Well, _they're _weak in their spelling skills," Jennyanydots huffed, peering at the note. She gazed at the silver tabby lovingly. "All quips aside, I think you should turn in for the night. At least Old Deuteronomy returns tomorrow. Then you'll be able to rest a little while."

"It's tempting," Munkustrap chuckled a bit. "But I'm afraid I can't turn in just yet."

"As the good queen who fed you with her own milk when your mother left, and then helped wean you, I demand you turn in."

Munkustrap groaned. "Why do you always do that?"

"What, guilt you into following me by reminding you of what I've done for you?"

"No, give too much information."

Jennyanydots smiled kindly. "I've taken care of many newborns, Munkus. Some were my own, some were not. You are one of the few who were _not _my kits, and still I love you, very much." She tiptoed to reach the tall Protector's face, leaving a kiss on his cheek. Then the bright, chubby queen gathered up her skirts and plodded out of his office.

"Good night, Munkus!"

"Good night, Jenny."

The warm copper moon shone slightly through the opening into his office. Having adjusted to the darkness, Munkustrap shielded his eyes in discomfort. As he gathered up the papers on his desk into one neat stack, the silver tabby cat concluded there were only two ways to go with his position: the tribe relaxing while the Protector shouldered the burden; or the Protector relaxing while the tribe crumbled to ruins.

* * *

The morning was young. Mungojerrie gave the sleeping Rumpleteazer a rub on her arm then jumped up to the sun hole.

He traipsed over to the same spot at the fence he'd first met Electra. Funnily enough, the dent where the side of his head had crashed into the wire was still there. Standing behind it was the young zigzagged queen, staring straight at the calico tom. Simultaneously, they smiled at each other.

"I'm here like I promised," he said, slinking through a small opening in the fence.

"Me too," replied Electra, holding out a paw to help him through. "I was scared you wouldn't."

"Hey, why in blimes wouldn't I? I love walks," Mungojerrie attempted to sound charismatic, just like Macavity.

And so the pair of them began to walk the perimeter of the Junkyard once again.

"You never told me about your mum," said Mungojerrie.

"You never told me about yours," the queen retaliated.

"I don't got one. There. Your turn."

Electra narrowed her eyes in mock disdain, but she submitted. "I'm a punishment-kitten."

"A what? Mungojerrie looked at her through wide eyes, surprised.

"Right, you haven't been told about that," Electra looked slightly to the sky, as if gathering her thoughts to tell a story. "I'm a punishment-kitten. The Everlasting Cat didn't like the pairing of my mum and dad very much, so instead of giving them a full litter of healthy kits, there was just me. It was the same thing for my father – he was an only child too."

"So your family's got the habit of choosing the wrong cats to fall in love with," Mungojerrie said with a laugh tingeing his voice.

Electra giggled, half-covering her mouth with a paw. "That's right, actually. I never thought about it that way."

"But who was your mum?"

"Have you met her yet?" asked Electra. "She's a tall red queen. Her name is Bombalurina."

Right, of course. Tugger had told him yesterday that the two used to be mates. There was no mystery as to why they were incompatible. This was Munkustrap the Protector they were talking about. The question was: what did they ever see in each other in the first place?

"They still talk to each other fine," the young queen shrugged. The two of them continued to amble down the street. "And Bombalurina sends me a treat every now and then."

"But you call her Bombalurina, not mum."

"Oh, don't get me wrong," Electra pawed a little at an itch behind her ear. "She's perfectly nice to me. It's just that it was my dad who took me in, and now it's this queen named Demeter who takes care of me. If you ask me, I'm quite glad I don't have a permanent mother."

"I reckon that's one thing we have different," Mungojerrie muttered rather honestly. "What I'd kill to know who my mum was…"

"Is that who you think about when you walk in the morning?" Electra asked, looking up at him. "Your mum?"

"What?" said Mungojerrie, and then he shook his head. "No, I don't think about that. I run in the morning so I don't _have _to think about something."

Electra smiled. "Then that's another thing we have different. I walk so I can think all I want."

"_What?_" Mungojerrie exclaimed in exaggerated disbelief. He placed a paw firmly on her dark brown shoulder. "Good Electra Munkustra Jellicalia-"

"Those aren't my names."

"I don't care. Good Electra, if you want to learn from a tom that's had the rough of the streets and the fight of the alleys, here's my advice. Don't think every flippin' second. It'll crowd your head with useless… smartness. Give your poor sunny head a break and just… don't… _think _sometimes."

Electra laughed out loud, quickening her pace. "That's nice advice. I'll follow it sometime."

Mungojerrie walked faster to match with her. "You'll follow it now. I know you're a plenty good queen and you have to fill up your time with lessons and being responsible and spending time with your mums Bombalurina and Darmeeta-"

"Demeter," Electra corrected, turning her brisk walk into a run.

"-Demeter, and you have only this little tick of time for yourself. Why spend it addin' more to your weight? I mean the weight in your mind, not your body. You're in plenty good shape, really. So I say it once more and again, don't think!"

This time that infuriating zigzagged queen stopped, bending over to laugh. Mungojerrie, who was out of breath from their sudden race (he was surprised she could go that fast), caught up with her, inhaling hard. The two of them were doubled over in the middle of the pavement, one from laughing and the other from exhaustion.

When Electra was able to collect herself again, she smiled at Mungojerrie as she wiped at her eye. "I'll admit it. I started to run because I thought you were babbling complete nonsense."

"I _was _babbling complete nonsense," replied Mungojerrie, who was still puffing. "That's me not thinking. Ain't it grand?"

"But you know what? It's alright, your advice. I guess I shouldn't think so much. Even my friends tell me that I think too much."

"Who tells you that you don't?" Mungojerrie asked, looking horrified.

"My dad," Electra answered quietly, and she began to walk again, this time slow. Mungojerrie followed her.

The tortoiseshell queen lowered her green eyes, until they disappeared under her lids and from Mungojerrie's view. "I want to thank you for walking with me again," she said as they neared the main entrance to the Junkyard. "It's nice to have someone to talk to in the morning."

The pair stopped directly in front of the main entrance. Mungojerrie put both his orange paws on her shoulders, this time being sincere as possible. "No problem there. Listen: let's walk again tomorrow, like the same. And we'll talk, but you don't have to _think_ all the time like I'm testin' ya to be Jellicle Leader, because when I see you I say Electra, not Leader. Um, not that you ain't good to be Leader, but the first thing I say is Electra. And it'll be grand, alright?"

The brown and orange queen smiled hopefully, and then stood on her tiptoes.

Mungojerrie figured she wanted a hug and leaned in a little more.

Electra brought her own face to his and planted her lips, soft and light, right on his mouth.

Mungojerrie's arms dropped to his sides.

When she pulled away, Mungojerrie stared at her. "What… was that?"

"That was me not thinking," she answered softly. And she spun around and ran off into the Yard, quickly disappearing among the piles of junk, leaving a tall black-and-orange colored calico standing in awe in front of the entrance.

When Electra didn't think, she _really _didn't think.

* * *

The afternoon was young. Mungojerrie was curled up on his bed, wishing it were nap hour so all the noise outside could quiet down. Rumpleteazer trudged in, sock sack in hand.

"I was-"

"-Out stealin'," Mungojerrie finished for her.

Rumpleteazer grinned cheekily. "I gotta get more hobbies."

Mungojerrie grinned in an identical way. "Same with me."

Rumpleteazer's smile faded, and with annoyance she raised a part of her shiny pearl necklace to show him.

"Looket this!" she cried, her nose wrinkling in disgust. "I was tryin' to get out of the baker's and his Peke of a mate started hitting at me, get this, _hitting _at me with a _broom_. And she kept smacking at my head! And this pearl, this one li'l pearl, got scratched up absolutely awful."

"Let me see," said Mungojerrie, beckoning with a paw. She scurried onto her knees and came up in front of Mungojerrie, holding her necklace. The tom took the damaged pearl between his fingers.

"This is what you get for wearing it every flippin' day," he said. The reply was a smack up the side of his face.

"That is what you get for being a flippin' tool," Rumpleteazer sulked. The calico tom yanked the fur on the side of her head hard. "Ow!"

"That is what you get for hitting me," Mungojerrie retorted. Rumpleteazer's palm suddenly came smashing into his face.

"Respect for queens! You have none!" she hissed as she pushed him to the floor with her single paw. Mungojerrie, his face covered, struggled under it. "I ain't letting go till you say sorry!"

"Mmphmphmhmhph!"

"What was 'at? Sorry?" Rumpleteazer, triumphant, lifted her paw slightly to hear an apology. She didn't get one.

Mungojerrie grabbed her wrist, pushing forward and tackling her to the ground. "Not at all!" he cackled maniacally.

The fighting turned into one of their frequent scuffles, and as Mungojerrie dodged Rumpleteazer's flailing arms and Rumpleteazer aimed continuously for Mungojerrie's face, the metal sheet over the sun hole was removed.

"Hey Jerrie!" Tumblebrutus smiled broadly, but stopped. "Oh, well, is this a bad time?"

"Very bad," Mungojerrie tried to say over Rumpleteazer's string of insults. The distraction caused him to be shoved off by the calico queen.

"No matter," said Tumblebrutus, as if he'd answered his own question. "Come up, mate! The guys want you around." He turned a little to nod grandly at Rumpleteazer. "And the queens'd like a session with you, milady."

"Ooh, yay!" Rumpleteazer cooed, and then turned back to Mungojerrie with a dark, poisonous look on her face. "This isn't done," she hissed in a low voice, but then reached to smooth out a messed tuft of hair on Mungojerrie's head to show that this was only another daily bicker. Stretching upwards, she leaped up to exit through the sun hole, Tumblebrutus making way. The patched tom looked back at Mungojerrie, smirking.

"Lively queen ya got there," he snickered, jabbing a thumb at the direction she'd left in. He reached through the sun hole. "Need a paw, brother?"

"Thanks," replied Mungojerrie. For all his brashness and tactlessness, Tumblebrutus was still one of Mungojerrie's good friends in the Junkyard.

The two of them sauntered over to the usual spot, where the usual circle of toms sat - Mistoffelees, Admetus, Pouncival, plus a new Jellicle.

"Mungojerrie!" Pouncival exclaimed, waving. He pointed at the new tom. "This is Plato!"

"Good to meet you," the mostly-white tom greeted, sounding tired. Sharp black lines framed his eyes, and the fur on his head was a dark orange.

"Plato just finally got back from work the past few days," Admetus stated.

"Work?" Mungojerrie asked.

"Railway work," Plato sighed, wiping his forehead with a lean arm. "My father's relentless. I have to get everything right when I fix the tracks."

"Sounds like a bummer," Mungojerrie nodded sympathetically. "Who's your dad?"

"It's-"

"Skimbleshanks," Tumblebrutus answered for him. "He's gone most of the day because he has to travel with the Sleeping Car Express, whatever in Heaviside that is."

"You need to stop interrupting everybody," Mistoffelees scowled.

"I don't _interrupt_, I _continue_. Saves breath for the bloke I did it for."

"Well, there you have it," Plato shrugged. "My father's name is Skimbleshanks. Have you met him yet? My mother's Jennyanydots. I reckon you've met her."

"Yeah, I have."

"Everyonehas," pointed out Admetus. "Personally, I hate our checkups, but my father Asparagus makes me go anyway."

"Ah, fathers, the most irritating out of the family," Tumblebrutus sang.

"Besides mothers," Pouncival grumbled. He jabbed a finger at the neatly brushed (for once) fur on his head. "Look at my hair! All slicked and combed! I look like a freaking Meladou fop!"

"More than usual," Mistoffelees joked, but innocently looked away when Pouncival cast a glare at him.

"I know you said that," he growled.

"Said what?" asked Mistoffelees, absentmindedly shooting blue sparks into the air with a paw.

"Do that again," Tumblebrutus said, transfixed. The conjurer rolled his eyes.

"You are amused by anything, Tumble."

"Except for your jokes. Do it again, jerk."

"Not now," Plato suddenly piped up, the excitement in his voice increased. "Look who's back."

The group of young toms craned their heads to hear where all the chatter was coming from.

Mungojerrie stared in amazement. As various Jellicle cats sprinted towards the main entrance of the Junkyard, all he could spot out of the flurry of colors was one certain feline, large and old but great and dignified.

"Make way for Old Deuteronomy!"


	9. The Mastermind

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This one's a little shorter than usual, and maybe a little more cheesy, heh! Thanks for the reviews, please keep 'em coming! They brighten my day. I've been able to lurk more in the Cats fanfics, and I've found a good lot of awesome ones. Go Cats fandom! Hahaha.

This one takes the plot forward a tad more. Next chapter will_ really_ pick things up, that I promise. Enjoy!

**

* * *

The Pariah Heroic**

**CHAPTER 9

* * *

**

Old Deuteronomy brought with him a stampede of Jellicles. Mungojerrie recalled that time Munkustrap had mentioned how overly excited the tribe could become over arrivals. Then he turned to realize that his circle of friends had already scattered as well. To keep himself from being trampled, he quickly got up and ran in the same direction as everyone else.

"Make way for Old Deuteronomy!" the same tom's voice boomed again, and Mungojerrie squinted to see who it was beside the Jellicle Leader. Surprisingly enough, it wasn't Munkustrap. The Rum Tum Tugger was clearing the way, a smooth smile on his face, proud to be the bringer of good news. He sure looked happier than he did when he'd come to Macavity's lair more than two weeks ago.

A few cats bumped roughly into his side, and the memory snapped out of Mungojerrie's mind, making him realize that the best course of action now was to find Rumpleteazer and stick with her.

"Teaze?" he tried to call out, a little futilely. The noise coming from the crowd drowned him out. "_Teazer_?"

He took the arm of a nearby Jellicle. She turned her white-furred head to look at him. Her name was Victoria, he remembered.

"Uh, excuse me?" he said. "Do you know where Rumpleteazer is?"

"What?" Victoria blinked delicately, her every move made with careful grace.

"I said, _do you know where Rumpleteazer is_?"

"No!" the snow-white queen shook her head, trying to battle the clamor with the volume of her voice. "I'm sorry, I lost her!" Mungojerrie promptly let go, and craned his head to continue searching the throng.

Etcetera was jumping animatedly up and down, waving her arms at the Leader. Maybe she knew where Rumpleteazer was. Mungojerrie quickly tapped her shoulder, making her lose her balance and nearly topple over surrounding cats.

"Etcetera!" the calico tom yelled over the racket, taking the pale queen's shoulder and turning her to face him. "Have ya seen Teazer?"

"Yes, that _is _Tugger leading Old Deuteronomy!" she grinned.

"No, _have ya seen Teazer_?"

"Oh! Rumple!" said Etcetera. "I'm sorry! No!"

Mungojerrie looked around again. The noise had not yet come down. Everyone was still clamoring to nuzzle with the Leader. Where was Rumpleteazer?

Out from the crowd he spotted Electra, nearly hidden behind the others. He figured he could weave his way through the Jellicles and ask her, but pondered this. Ever since the kiss outside the Junkyard fence he could not even glance at her without feeling both a drop and a drumming from within his chest. Even worse, looking at her sometimes made him blush. Maybe her thinking was contagious.

"Teazer!" he shouted again, a little more desperately. "Teazer, _where are you_?"

From the sea of spectators Mungojerrie suddenly spotted a flash of bright orange. Taking a leap of faith, he plunged his arm through to search for another, a queen's. He spread out his fingers.

There was a jagged piece of metal, the tab of a can, tied to his palm with yarn string. Fumbling, he tried to find the pull of a magnet.

The metal led him to someone's paw; he quickly pulled it towards him.

It was Rumpleteazer, looking as surprised and confused as he was. Their paws had clasped together. Tied to her palm with yarn was an old rectangular fridge magnet, its black side facing outward. It had pulled the metal tab towards her.

"Teaze! I found you!"

"What?"

"_I found you_!"

Before the calico queen could reply, an abrupt hush came over the tribe as Munkustrap emerged to greet his father. He carried himself professionally, without a smile on his face but a welcoming glint in his eyes. As was the tradition, the silver tabby took a bow before his father, and the throng of Jellicles cheered once again.

Old Deuteronomy was a big, old tottery thing. To Mungojerrie, he didn't seem at all like a magical cat, let alone the guard to the Heaviside Layer. To imagine that he was the protector's father… to imagine that he was the hero's, was a tad difficult to do. The Leader put his paws up, addressing the Jellicles.

"My tribe, the time of mourning is over," his bass voice, deep and soft at the same time, filled the Junkyard. "My dear mate was blessed with Jellicle Life, and graciously she returned it to make way for new ones to be born. Now I return to my regular visits. We are all to prepare for our next Ball; it is fast approaching."

As the Leader stepped down from his pedestal-tire and was lead away wordlessly by Munkustrap, a new wave of chatter burst through the tribe. The duo looked around them, mildly confused, and turned to each other, arms still linked.

"So I reckon the next Jellicle Ball is soon?" said Mungojerrie.

Rumpleteazer nodded. "That's all what the queens ever talk on and on about. I just dunno when it is."

"Hang on," Mungojerrie said, glancing around. "I better ask somebo-"

"_Jemima_!_" _a young tom's voice exploded across the yard, very loudly interrupting Mungojerrie. It was Tumblebrutus, practically leaping on his tiptoes, climbing onto the top of the giant tire from where Old Deuteronomy had descended. Standing at its steps were Pouncival and Admetus, both appearing like their sides would split from holding in their laughter, and Mistoffelees, who had buried his face into his paws.

"_Jemima_!" Tumblebrutus shouted harder, scanning the crowd. The Jellicles parted in the middle to discover a small group of giggling kittens, surrounding the called upon queen. She looked up curiously, shyly, twirling a lock of black fur that fell from her head. Underneath the sun she almost seemed purple.

Tumblebrutus, standing tall on the tire, beamed. "Would you do me the honor, dear 'Mima…" he knelt on one knee, dramatically placing a paw on his chest, while a new round of coos and giggles erupted from the queen kits. "…of coming with me to the Jellicle Ball this year?"

Jemima's large blue eyes widened, and she hid them beneath her long lashes in a deep pink blush. Victoria and Etcetera cooed with delight. "That means yes! That _definitely _means yes!" Etcetera squealed.

Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer turned back to each other, amused.

"I guess that's why all the queens fancy it so much," said Rumpleteazer.

Before Mungojerrie replied, their arms were grabbed quickly out of the crowd.

Munkustrap was pulling them towards some narrow, caved part of the Junkyard.

"Do you _like _to do this all the time?" Mungojerrie asked, openly displaying his annoyance as the Protector pulled the both of them. "Do you?"

"It's… a force of habit," Munkustrap replied over his shoulder, uncomfortable. "Rest assured that I don't do it to just the two of you."

From the narrow den-tunnel the three entered a new room, filled with stacks and stacks of paper. In the corner was a human's lamp, to illuminate the entire den. In the middle, the Jellicle Leader was seated comfortably on a cushion, reading through a few sheets. He looked up, and smiled warmly.

"Hello Munkustrap," he said, kindly, and then turned to the black-and-orange pair. "Might you be the new cats?"

"This is Mungojerrie, and this is Rumpleteazer," said Munkustrap, motioning to the two. "They were strays before coming to the Junkyard."

Mungojerrie stood there with his partner, not even opening his mouth. He realized that he had no idea what to say.

"Good afternoon, my friends," Old Deuteronomy greeted them cordially, setting down the papers he was holding. "How long will you be staying with us?"

"We've given them a month," Munkustrap answered for them, standing right beside Mungojerrie. "They have three weeks left so far." Discreetly, the tabby hit a paw against Mungojerrie's back, signaling to him to bow. The calico hastily bent down in an exaggeratedly humble bow, pulling Rumpleteazer along with him.

"You may rise," nodded Old Deuteronomy, and as the pair did so he leaned back against his seat. "Are you enjoying it here with the Jellicles?"

"Oh, plenty much, sir," Rumpleteazer replied brightly, grinning. "We got ourselves friends and we'll be sorry to leave."

"That's lovely," Old Deuteronomy said, with a perpetual, genuine happiness to his voice. "Will you be attending our Jellicle Ball?"

"Well," Rumpleteazer began. "If the Jells give us the chance, then we take it!"

Mungojerrie realized he couldn't tell if she was acting or not.

The Jellicle Leader grinned. "Well, you may go. I'll be speaking with my son now."

Unsure of what to do, the couple of cats bowed once more and squeezed clumsily out of the exit – it was too narrow for them to go through simultaneously. The calicos fumbled for a way to leave the den with their dignity. This was a bit of a failure – both of them wanted to leave first.

When they finally pulled through, the lamp's glow from the office was faint enough to indicate that the Leader and Protector wouldn't hear them.

"Well, _that _was a punch," said Mungojerrie, brushing dust off his shoulder.

"Odd, really," Rumpleteazer pursed her lips as she inspected the tufts of fur on her head. "You didn't even say a thing."

"I…" Mungojerrie tried to retort. "…Oh yeah."

* * *

"They seem nice," Old Deuteronomy told his son, Munkustrap. "They do seem quite rough, though."

"Well, they haven't caused any trouble so far," the tabby replied. "I just hear from the younglings that they fight nearly all the time."

"Alright," the Leader looked through the records in his paws, putting one paper behind the other. "They came about a week ago, really? From what I saw, they're already very close with some of our own."

"For the first three days they kept to themselves. After that, they were befriended by the adolescents immediately."

"Good, good. And now for my next set of questions … how is your progress on the Jellicle Ball proceedings?"

"Steady. The decision is still to have Bustopher Jones join as the new member. Our plan is to have Victoria dance for the Coming of Age ritual, but if Rumpleteazer were a Jellicle, she would be a better choice, as she'd be closer to a year and a half by the time of the Ball. Victoria misses it by roughly two weeks."

"Well then," Old Deuteronomy smiled. "Why not let Rumpleteazer become the new member instead?"

"I-" Munkustrap tried to answer, but shook his head in incredulity. "You barely know the girl. For what reason would you suddenly suggest that?"

"I'm old. I have no need for reasons." Old Deuteronomy observed the expression of disbelief on his son's face, and laughed. "Bustopher Jones only takes the time to visit us when the Meladous have no event. These two seem to fit in nicely. Why not accept them into the tribe instead?"

"Accept… _two _Jellicles in one year?" Munkustrap narrowed his eyes, considering the idea. "That would be… new."

"Why not, then?" Old Deuteronomy asked cheerfully. "Aren't the Jellicles all about newness?"

"We're all about tradition, actually."

"Oh, well, I forget how the old rhyme goes. What I want to propose is, let these next two weeks be their trial time. If by the end of it no problems have emerged, then I would say we could accept them. Give it a thought, Munkustrap."

"I have," the tabby nodded, still mostly unsure. "And I'll continue to do so."

* * *

_Heroes are the valiant ones, my dear. They rescue the helpless and aid the needy. They save the day._

_Things are complicated now. We are in need of all kinds of heroes. Maybe, one day, Kitten, you'll be your own kind.

* * *

_

Mungojerrie entered the well-kept den, still groggy and grumpy from being interrupted from his sleep. Rumpleteazer had done so very rudely by jumping around on his bed mats, yelling his name into his face.

"What, what, what do ya want?" he'd hissed, sitting up.

"Nothing," she'd replied, settling down. "Mistoffelees outside says Jenny's calling you."

Just as the black-and-orange tom walked in, the Gumbie Cat emerged from her kitchen, with a pleasant smile on her face as always.

"My dearest Mungojerrie," she purred, approaching him with an outstretched paw. "I'm so happy to see you again."

"Um, happy to see you again, too," he answered, putting on a toothy grin to combat hers. He held up his paw to shake hers.

"What's that tied to your paw, dear?" the marmalade-colored queen asked.

"Oh," Mungojerrie turned his arm to look at his invention again. "It's, uh, metal. Teazer's got a magnet tied on hers. I made 'em. Helps us get to each other."

Jennyanydots nodded, her eyebrows raised in amazement. "How creative…" she whispered, and patted his wrist to let him put his paw down.

"What am I here for?" asked Mungojerrie.

"Your checkup, dear," she smiled sweetly. "Every Jellicle in the tribe has it with me once a week. Of course, your first was only about four days ago, but I'll be doing yours now so that you're in time with all the others. Now, say ah."

Mungojerrie complied. Jennyanydots went through the usual: checking his mouth, his eyes and his ears, patting his side. Her little clucks every now and then might have signified that something was wrong. They might have signified that everything was fine. Mungojerrie couldn't at all tell. After several moments, the Gumbie Cat stepped back.

"Alright, all done!" she brightly said. "You're healthier than before. It must be the Jellicle diet. That's good."

"Thank you, uh-"

"You may call me Jenny."

"Thank you, Jenny," answered Mungojerrie, unused to the politeness he had to put on in front of her.

"So how is your stay with us so far?" Jennyanydots asked, busying herself with neatening the piles of mouse sketches on her desk. "How do you find the toms?"

"They're great fun around."

"Ah, yes. They're a mischievous bunch, though. How do you find the queens?"

Mungojerrie considered mentioning Electra, but something pulled him back from it for some reason. "I haven't got to talk to any."

"That's alright. How do you find Munkustrap?"

Mungojerrie frowned. He couldn't think of a way to describe the Protector without making it sound like he was describing a hard brick wall. "Eh… responsible, I reckon? Sometimes I feel like the tom's got to laugh a flick more, that's all."

Jennyanydots smiled again, a little sadly. "He does come off as rather cross, doesn't he?" the Gumbie Cat sighed, dusting off the side of her desk. "Oh, if you knew everything he's done for the tribe…"

"Why, what's he done?"

"The tribe wasn't as peaceful as it is now. Our security used to be awfully loose. Intruders, all the time. Invaders, all the time. You and Rumple were a lucky pair, actually. You didn't seem threatening. Back then, Munkustrap singlehandedly saved us from each and every attack. He took on so much responsibility in his youth. What was he, then? About a year and a half, just came of age. He's a good cat, really."

"So I guess the tribe really does love him?" Mungojerrie mused aloud.

"Oh, truly and fully. Being our Leader's son automatically placed him as Protector, but Munkustrap… he made sure he deserved his own position. Guarded us every night. Watched us every day. He's our hero."

Hero. Mungojerrie hadn't heard the title in the longest time. Well, he and Rumpleteazer referred to Macavity as "the hero" every now and then, but this was the first time in months where he'd heard it from someone else. It felt strange.

"A hero, wow," said Mungojerrie. "…to reckon that strict Protector bloke is a hero."

Jennyanydots looked at him suddenly, and he couldn't tell if it was because she was about to explain further or because he'd used the word "bloke". He held his breath for her reply.

The Gumbie Cat smiled again at him kindly, and padded over. "Here, darling. Let me fix your fur. It's a full mess."

With a skilled paw she brushed back the overlong fur partly hiding his eyes, and patted some Junkyard dirt off his cheeks.

"Munkustrap _may _seem strict and demanding at times, but he is outstanding," she sighed soothingly. "Nobody can be perfect, but anybody can be a hero."

_Nobody can be perfect, but anybody can be a hero._

Mungojerrie nodded slowly. He didn't fully understand, but if the Jellicles wanted to think of Munkustrap as their hero, they were free to do so. What would he do about it?

"Thank you for visiting, dear. Could you call your friend now? It's her turn."

"Sure thing, uh… Jenny," the calico tom replied, and turned to leave the den. Behind him, he could hear the Gumbie Cat still humming.

Walking out into the Junkyard, Mungojerrie again looked at the metal tab tied to his paw, and thought of Rumpleteazer. He wondered what she thought of all of this.

He wondered if he thought the same as she did, as well.


	10. The Double Life

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hey guys! Being the irresponsible teenager I am, I'm uploading a chapter during exam week! A sort-of important announcement is that from now on in this fic I will refer to every cat's upper extremities as "hands" and not "paws" to save everyone from confusion and myself from the terror of being reduced to a sobbing curled-up ball on the floor, crying out "Which one am I supposed to use?"

Another thing! In case you're confused about their aging, refer to the very helpful actual cat-years chart I linked to in my profile. And now for shameless self-plugging! A link in my profile leads to my fairly new deviantArt account containing exclusively my Cats fanart. Why not give it a check and throw this starving artist some imaginary money?

Anyway, fairly long chapter we have here. Ready yourself for a human appearance, some desperate attempts at comic relief, and an oddly responsible Tugger. In case you are confused about anything at all, fear not. All will be explained in the following chapter. Enjoy? :D

**

* * *

**

The Pariah Heroic

CHAPTER 10

* * *

"Bum it, Janie, snip that bloody thing at the tail!" the red-faced human bellowed from the bedroom as the calico cat dashed across the apartment living room.

"Thing o' the devil! Thing o' the devil!" the female screeched, chasing after him in her nightgown with a greasy cleaver. "Give those back!"

_Aw hell, aw hell, aw hell, aw hell_ was what was all on Mungojerrie's mind as he jumped onto a couch to get to the window. In his mouth he held two dangling diamond chandelier earrings – probably fake, but shiny nonetheless.

"Janie it's getting away! Throw the bloody knife!" the male human shouted as he jumped from his bed.

"Damned if I throw this thing! Cost me thirty quid at the bloody trade fair!"

"The earrings cost you flippin' ninety!"

Quickly Mungojerrie climbed onto the frame of the window, towering two stories above the ground. As soon as he regained his balance at the very edge, a thin, silver object went flying past the right side of his head, chopping off with it a sharp black tuft of his fur.

"Hell on a salmon!" Mungojerrie yelled in anger, though to the humans it came out as _ngrryyaaaw._

"You bastard! You had me throw my bloody cleaver!" shrieked the female.

"Get the cat! Get the damn cat!"

All at once, two pairs of plump arms grabbed at his tail, and swiftly as he could Mungojerrie jumped from the window.

* * *

In retrospect, that wasn't the very best "first steal" Mungojerrie could imagine for himself.

He stared at the two dangling fake-diamond earrings sitting in his hands. Under the faint six o'clock sun they glittered weakly, and one of the hooks was partially curved too far. He stashed them into his sock bag along with a poster he'd found on the wall of the apartment he'd just escaped from.

The metal can tab tied to his palm was luckily still intact, but landing feet-first onto the pavement had given both his invention and his limbs a good, painful beating. Delicately he loosened the yarn around the tab to remove some of the soreness.

Maybe he'd give the earrings to Electra, he figured. Of course, being a cat, she had no use for it, but it still seemed like a gentlemanly gesture. There was still the question of presenting them to her, though. "Here, I stole these for you" was _not _a good way to appear to the daughter of a Jellicle tribe protector.

Holding the earrings, he realized he didn't really have a reason behind stealing them.

Standing in the same spot at the fence as usual, he waited for Electra. Today was the end of Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer's second week with the Jellicles. They had two weeks left to remain on good behavior, and hopefully by the end they would be accepted fully into the tribe. It seemed, socially, they _had _been, but not yet officially.

Today was also another update report with Macavity. The last one had seemed to go well, but Macavity warned them that the next wouldn't be as fast. What surprised Mungojerrie was that he hadn't thought about the dreaded report all week. Perpetually he thought of the Jellicles instead, and frankly, it scared him. In fact, he'd already gained a daily routine with them.

His day started with Electra. Each morning walk with her was the same. They would meet outside of the Junkyard fence and walk and talk and "not think", as Mungojerrie put it, until they had idly stalked the perimeter of the yard twice.

It was just that now she ended each with a kiss. The kiss was always initiated by her, in the same manner: hesitant, shy at first, then swiftly she would place her face in front of his, her fingers tracing the sides of his cheeks.

And then she would run away without another word. It occurred to Mungojerrie that he was never the one to start it. Maybe this morning, he figured, he would try to be so to make up for it.

"Jerrie?" a queen's voice, unsure, emerged from the cold fog. The tom turned to see the rust-colored queen standing there, her hands clasped in front of her and her eyes directed to the ground.

"El," Mungojerrie responded, readying his sack to bring out the dangling earrings. "I got you-"

"I, um," she suddenly interrupted. "I wanted to ask you something."

"…Alright," said Mungojerrie doubtfully. "What?"

"Do you… like me?"

_Hell on a salmon. _Mungojerrie stood there. Why was she asking that? Was she trying to trap him or something? "El, what in blimes are you…"

"I, I mean…" Electra started up again, staring at her hands as she fiddled with them. "I don't mean like that. It doesn't have to be like that, really. I just meant if you liked me. Like, liked me at _all. _Liked me. Do you?"

"El, I…"

"…because I just wanted to know. I wanted to know if you liked me. If anyone liked me. If you liked me at all, because I'm really not sure anymore," she was beginning to speak faster.

For the first time, and for the most peculiar reason ever, Mungojerrie felt unbelievably helpless.

"…because I can't talk to_ anyone _anymore. Not even to my friends. Not to Etcetera or Vic or Mimes or- or- or- or even some of the _toms _or even _Jenny _and I don't even talk to Jenny unless it's about my dad, and- and- and Everlasting Cat, _my dad! _I don't talk to him anymore unless it's about the tribe or records or what stupid useless thing springs up with the Jellicles, and, see, I only ever talk to _you_ and I just wanted to _know_!"

Electra quickly buried her face into her hands, as if muffling any other words that could possibly spill out from her mouth. Impulsively Mungojerrie dropped his bag and stepped forward and put his arms around her, still silent. He hoped to Bast she wouldn't cry.

Slowly, Electra lifted her face, staring up at him with tired eyes.

"Everlasting Cat, I'm being an idiot, right?" she said wearily.

Mungojerrie took this moment to try and cheer her up. "Are you asking me, or the Everlasting Cat?"

Electra laughed a bit, and pulled away from his arms. "I've gotten used to just asking myself."

"Ey, El," said Mungojerrie, tipping her chin up with a finger. On his palm rested the metal tab, and he made sure to hide it in case Electra would see. "I like you fine, alright?"

With a weak but hopeful smile, Electra nodded.

"In fact, I like you a ton. And I reckon the most lot of the Jellicles has fishbones in their eyes if they can't work out why."

Electra took Mungojerrie's wrist in her hands, lowering it gingerly. "Thank you, Mungo. You're so nice to me."

And in the regular fashion, she stood on her tiptoes and planted a kiss on his mouth, lingering a moment longer than usual.

When Electra pulled back, she said, "I've got to go."

"What?" Mungojerrie blinked. "We ain't even walked the streets yet."

The tortoiseshell queen shook her head. "We can't walk today. I can't walk with you. I'm… I'm not even supposed to be here."

"But… why?"

"I'm not allowed to be," she answered, pain brimming deeply in her eyes. The young queen took a step back. "But I'll keep trying to see you, alright?"

"El… what in blimes am I gettin' myself into here?"

"Nothing. Please… please just keep trying to see me."

"El…"

"Please," the word came out hard and pained.

Mungojerrie, sighing, nodded. "El, if there's a problem-"

"There's none, there's none," the rust queen soothed him, though her own voice sounded heartbroken. Electra took Mungojerrie's face in her hands, putting her forehead against his as she closed her eyes. For a long time they stayed that way, barely touching noses, Mungojerrie listening to her soft, troubled breathing.

"I love you," Electra whispered, and then promptly let go to dart fast away into the fog.

Mungojerrie, picking up his sack, kicked miserably at the dirt on the pavement.

What in the world was he _doing_?

* * *

Double life? Not enough. It seemed more like a triple life. There was his home with Macavity, his closeness with Rumpleteazer, and his supposedly "secret" meetings with Electra. What was difficult was keeping all of them apart.

Mungojerrie climbed onto the top of the junk pile, locating the metal sheet that covered his den's sun hole. Finding it, he pulled it away and jumped right in. Rumpleteazer was sitting on top of one of his posters, and looked up, surprised.

"Jerrie!" she exclaimed. "What you doin' up so early? And where were you?"

"What're _you _doin' up so early?" Mungojerrie directed back to her, just as surprised.

"Macavity told us to brush up on readin', remember?" replied Rumpleteazer, nervously chewing her lower lip. "I forgot to all week so I'm cramming it now. I'm using your poster, see."

"I forgot to read, too," Mungojerrie said, raking his claws through the fur on his head. "All I know's my flippin' alphabets and ABC's."

"I can read now, sort of," said Rumpleteazer, and she directed her claw to a black line of text on the poster she was kneeling on. "Way… ter… ess… wan… ted. Waitress… wanted."

"You can read better than me," mourned Mungojerrie. "And _I'm _the one who gets all the papers."

Rumpleteazer shrugged. "I'm still toilin' over writing. Can't draw out one letter." She looked at what Mungojerrie was holding. "Were you… out stealin'?"

"Oh yeah!" Mungojerrie exclaimed, and plunged his arm into his socksack. "I just did my first steal ever."

"About flippin' time!" Rumpleteazer jumped up and eagerly tried to peek into his bag. "Whadjeh get?"

Mungojerrie pulled out the two dangling chandelier earrings, their hooks now twisted and bent from being stuffed hurriedly into his bag. The light from the sun hole glowed faintly onto the tiny inset rocks.

"I… got these for you," said Mungojerrie, bringing them closer to the calico queen. "For gettin' me all these posters."

"Oh, Mungo," Rumpleteazer breathed, taking the earrings. She gazed at them for a long time, not saying a thing. "…They're so _shiny_."

"That's what I said!"

"Thanks, Mungo!" Rumpleteazer said brightly, and with a flourish hooked them onto either side of her Woolworth necklace to accompany her white pearls. Of course, the original idea was to give them to Electra, but now that it seemed they were standing on rocky ground Mungojerrie figured it would be safer to give them to Rumpleteazer, who seemed happy with them anyway.

"Now," the calico queen said, taking Mungojerrie's wrist as she walked towards the exit of their den. "We got to get to the fence! That messenger queen might be here soon."

* * *

Rumpleteazer was right. The frail silver queen was waiting at the Junkyard fence again, gazing at them mutely. As the pair approached, she stood up from the cement.

"We're ready for the boss!" said Rumpleteazer cheerily, stepping forward.

Mungojerrie followed closely behind her, feeling in a more positive mood than before.

The old queen put a hand up to stop him. He stepped back, confused.

"One will suffice," she croaked, taking Rumpleteazer's arm in her own.

"But…" Mungojerrie started.

"Macavity's words," the queen answered simply.

"You can't come?" asked Rumpleteazer, looking kittenishly sad.

"I guess not, Macavity's words," Mungojerrie replied. He gave his partner a light brush at the arm. "Just tell him everything I told to ya, alright?"

"Alright, alright," Rumpleteazer grinned. As the old silver queen directed her to the road, she turned to wave. "But you hefta go for the next report! Here's hopin' I live!"

Mungojerrie waved the same way. Backing into the main entrance of the Junkyard, he turned to walk again to their den.

The Junkyard, still mostly silent, was beginning to rustle with a few signs of awakening. Hesitantly the sun rose over the junk piles. No wonder a small tribe of magical cats chose this place as their home, Mungojerrie mused. It was incredibly peaceful.

"Mungojerrie?"

"_Son of a bloody - _Oh, uh, good morning, Munkustrap," Mungojerrie said hastily as he spun around to meet eyes with the silver tabby. Macavity was right: he really had to clean up his language.

"Good morning, Mungojerrie," returned the Protector. "I'm… sorry to have scared you."

"No, no, it's okay, you didn't," the calico tom replied quickly. "I just didn't know anyone else was awake."

"What are you doing at an hour this early?"

Mungojerrie froze. What would he say? Out stealing? No. Out meeting with Macavity? Definitely no. Out kissing your only daughter? Bast on a bloody platter, no. Munkustrap stared at him wordlessly.

"I… was… out all night, actually," Mungojerrie lied.

"And why is that?" asked Munkustrap, his ears flicking.

"Because… I was keeping watch over a corner of the Yard," the calico tom forced out.

"You were? Last night?"

"…Yeah."

"I didn't see you."

"Where were you?"

"In the north section."

"…I was in the south."

"Oh."

This was probably the worst lie Mungojerrie had ever made up on the spot. His ears flat on his head, he looked pathetically up at the Tribe Protector. "I was doing it because I was worried about the Yard. I reckon you don't believe me."

"No, no, not that," the Protector closed his eyes, breathing out. "I… I think I should be more trusting. Everyone says so. That was very noble of you to do, Mungojerrie."

"…Thanks, Munkustrap," the black-and-orange tom replied, feeling guilty.

"Now for why I called you," said Munkustrap, returning to his professional stance. "You and Rumpleteazer have behaved very well with the Jellicle tribe."

"Thank you?" Mungojerrie said, curious as to what this was leading to.

"And, in response to the requests of some Jellicles… quite a lot of them, actually… I've extended your stay with us for the next few months until the Jellicle Ball."

Mungojerrie stared at him, astonished. "You're… you're not joking, are you?"

"I'm not joking. The two of you may live with us until the Jellicle Ball. If you keep to your conduct, we may initiate you officially into the tribe."

At first, Mungojerrie was speechless. Then he shook himself out of his daze and grinned as widely as possible. "Sweet Bast, I really have to thank you! That's… beyond great. Uh, thank you."

Munkustrap nodded. "I'm glad you're happy with that. A number of the Jellicles really seem to like the pair of you. Just… keep on good behavior."

"Sure thing, Protector."

The tabby nodded once more, and without another word turned around to survey some other part of the Junkyard, leaving Mungojerrie feeling thrilled and baffled at the same time.

* * *

The rest of the morning passed without incident. It had shifted quietly into the afternoon, and Mungojerrie sat at the peak of a junk pile. He placed his elbows on the top of the fence, looking over the small view of the city he had from there.

Now that they had another handful of months at the Junkyard, Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer had more time to investigate. They hadn't progressed much since their last update, and Mungojerrie figured that it was time to crack down hard. His main targets were Mistoffelees, Old Deuteronomy (if he could gather up the courage to speak with him privately), and Munkustrap (if he could gather up the courage to speak with him at all).

Mungojerrie's ear twitched suddenly. He heard another set of limbs climbing up the chunks of steel and wood, and he turned around to look behind him.

A familiar cat reached the top of the junk pile. As he regained his footing, the tom brushed tidily at some messed fur on his golden mane, casting an extraordinarily charming smile at the calico.

"Looks like you found my usual spot," the Rum Tum Tugger smirked, walking forward. "Glorious view, right, Mungo-jeery?"

"It's Mungojerrie," answered the black-and-orange cat, uneasy. "Sorry. I could leave if ya want me to."

"No, don't," the handsome tom shook his head. "I need some good company up here every once in a while." Coming up beside the calico, he put his arms on the fence, looking out towards the city. "Having a crazy time with us Jellicles, aren't you?"

"Oh, Bast yes," said Mungojerrie, relaxing as he leaned on the fence again.

"Macavity's a right mystery for sending you here, yeah?"

"That's how I'd say it," Mungojerrie laughed, rolling his eyes.

Wait, what?

_Oh Bast._

_Oh flipping bloody Bast on a flipping bloody platter._

"I… I… I… _what_?"

"You didn't think I'd catch on, did you?" Tugger said plainly, still staring out at the buildings. "You didn't think I'd be able to figure out that a couple of strays out of nowhere weren't, how'd ya put it? 'Lookin' foh a home'."

Slowly, tensely, Mungojerrie took his arms from the top of the fence.

"It's funny," said Tugger, sardonically. "I didn't figure I'd hear about that little Teazer girl ever again. Cunning as anything, Macavity'd told me. I figured it was her when I saw those pearls. Not the best at disguises, are you blokes?"

Mungojerrie, quick as he could, unsheathed his claws and took a violent swipe at the tom.

"_Fuck_!" Tugger yelled, and dodged hurriedly to his right. The calico's scratch only caught a fraction of his golden mane. He nearly tripped. "What in the _bloody hell _are you trying to do?"

"You're tellin' 'em all about us, aren't you?" growled Mungojerrie. "You're tryin' to get Teaze and me killed!"

"Slow the hell down!" Tugger impatiently put his hands up. "I may know where you blokes come from, and it's not a great place, but I'm not telling _anyone_, serious to Bast."

"Give me one reason to believe that," Mungojerrie said, advancing. "You're the bloke here who knows Macavity best."

"That's true," replied Tugger, narrowing his eyes. "And I know that he doesn't know the Jellicles at all."

Mungojerrie, uncertain, sheathed his claws. "What do ya mean?"

"Alright, Mungo-jeery-"

"_Mungojerrie_."

"Right, right. Mungojerrie, look at me. Do I look like that noble, joyful, clean-good-fun-loving Jellicle you hear about?"

It didn't take the calico tom a long period of time to answer that. "Uh, no."

"You're damn right. I spent a good chunk of my days leaving the Yard and doing all sorts of stupid things. That's no secret. And still, the Jellicles had enough good in them to let me back in. I guess that's what changed my mind about them."

Mungojerrie raised an eyebrow, still slightly untrusting. "That still doesn't answer me why you ain't goin' to tell on us."

Tugger placed his elbows on the top of the fence again, looking resignedly out to the city. "Because I think you're going to change your mind, too."

The black and gold tom moved away and quickly jumped down the junk pile without another word, and Mungojerrie didn't have any more willpower to ask him anything else.

* * *

As the sun set, Mungojerrie returned to his den, and found Rumpleteazer, back from the report, curled up tightly on her bed, facing the corner. He walked closer to see that she was asleep.

"Teaze, hey, Teaze?" he whispered, rubbing at her arm. She didn't answer.

Mungojerrie looked at her left hand. The old fridge magnet was still tied to it, but had gone partly bent, probably because she had closed it in a fist a couple of times. Careful not to wake her, he reached out and tried to press it back to its original flatness with his right hand.

As his fingers gingerly touched her palm, Rumpleteazer shifted slightly in her sleep. Mungojerrie stopped to see if she would wake up, but instead her fingers closed around his, her magnet pulling at the metal tab tied to Mungojerrie's palm a little stronger.

Sometimes triple lives were worth it.


	11. The Catch

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank goodness for the weekend! No school for the next two days. Time to do actually important things. (cough)

Thanks again for all the reviews! They are the pearls to my Rumpleteazer. ...The stripes to my Munkustrap. ...The mane to my Tugger. Something like that.

Speaking of Tugger, I had no idea he had so many fangirls. XD He will make an appearance... next chapter. Though he gets his good share of mentions here! Hope the chapter as a whole isn't too confusing. SERIOUS business goes down. Enjoy!

* * *

**The Pariah Heroic**

**CHAPTER 11

* * *

**

_A Day Before._

It was the middle of the afternoon. Munkustrap, sitting in his den, gathered the paper piled in front of him. The threatening notes were increasing, and if the words contained any clue as to where they were coming from, then he'd overlooked them in the few dozen times he'd read the letters. There were cats out there who wanted to kill the Jellicles, and he had no idea who.

Demeter had retreated to their bed in another room, sleeping the day out to spend yet another night wandering alone among the junk piles. It was something the family had gotten used to- to be able to interact with the gold-and-black queen only under the moon.

In the other side of the den, which he was facing away from, was his Electra, who he'd appointed to look over Jellylorum's records to see if anything unnatural had come about over the past few days. For the last several minutes she'd been mostly silent, with nothing but the slow, light rustling of papers to remind Munkustrap she was still there.

"El," called the silver tabby, putting his arm behind him to reach for something. "Could you hand me the files for yesterday?"

She didn't answer.

"El?" he turned, and saw that she wasn't sorting through them, but had curled up fast asleep in the midst of the stacks of paper. "El," the tabby called out once again, sternly. The young queen jerked awake. She immediately sat up, rubbing at her eyes.

"Sorry," she muttered, looking back at the records.

"El, what's gotten into you?" Munkustrap frowned, turning away from the notes. "That's the fourth time you've fallen asleep over your work."

"I said sorry," replied Electra, still facing the corner with papers.

"El, look at me," the tabby commanded, alarmed. When his daughter finally did, he stood up. "Why are you always falling asleep at this time of the day?"

"I don't know," she said curtly, shifting her view to the floor. Munkustrap didn't like this; he pressed on.

"Don't speak with me like that. Is it because of your walks in the morning? Are you up too early for them?"

"Dad," Electra looked up at him, seeming anxious. "You can't forbid my walks! I love going on my walks."

Munkustrap sighed, running his claws through the fur on his head. "I thought we agreed your walks were to let you relax in the morning, not to become the highlight of your day."

"You still can't take them!" answered his daughter, sharply.

"Electra," he said her full first name to draw attention to her rudeness. She stared up at him angrily, her lips pressed tight together. Munkustrap paused, and realized she was looking at him with hate for possibly the first time in her life. The tabby breathed, rubbing his forehead. "El, you're overreacting. This is distracting you from everything. For the time being, you can't go past the Junkyard fence without my permission."

"_Why_?" the young queen cried out, scrambling quickly to her feet. She kicked down one of the stacks of paper behind her in the process, and its files scattered entirely onto the floor of the den.

"Electra! Calm down! And how can I trust you to do anything if I don't even know what you're doing?"

"Why can't you trust me?" Electra asked. "You don't trust anyone! You can't trust anyone who isn't a shining dazzling hero who always saves the day. You can't trust anyone but _you._"

Munkustrap cringed at how she spat out that last word. He stared her, trying his best to mask his hurt. "What are you doing on those walks that's got you so fervent about them?"

Electra looked away.

"You're not… meeting with someone, are you?"

"_No_," she said bitingly. And before Munkustrap could step forward to ask her any further, the rust-colored queen dashed off to her own room in their den, knocking over another stack of once neatly arranged files. He figured that she'd inherited his outer pride, and she did not want him to see her cry.

Sighing, the Protector returned to the piles of paper in front of him. Then again, what did _he _know about his own daughter?

* * *

"Teaze, wake up. Wake up!"

The black-and-orange tom shook his partner awake. She scowled, her eyes glued shut, and she buried her face into the cushion of the mats. Mungojerrie couldn't wait for her to wake up on her own. He'd spent the last hour roaming the Junkyard, eavesdropping on how the Jellicles thought of the two of them. What he'd heard, accompanied with what Munkustrap had told him that morning, had kept him completely awake.

"Teaze!" Mungojerrie shook her, and the queen finally gave in as she moved from her curled position to stretch languidly on her bed.

"What do ya want?" asked Rumpleteazer, rubbing her eyes. Mungojerrie debated mentally whether to ask her first about the report, or to go ahead with the big news.

"Um, which do ya want first, the askin' or the tellin'?" he said.

"…Which'll make me do less?"

"The tellin'."

"Okay, that," she shrugged, sleepily scratching her head.

Mungojerrie grinned widely, and took her arms to help her in a sitting-up position. "I was walking around after you left with the messenger, and I bumped into Munkustrap."

Rumpleteazer raised an eyebrow. "What did he do?"

"He told me the best thing ever."

Rumpleteazer scooted closer, her interest recovered. "How's it the best, then?"

"Because it gives us more time to ask around the tribe, _and _it gets us closer to them," answered Mungojerrie eagerly.

The calico queen bit her lip, looking unsure. "What'd he tell you?"

"We're stayin' here till the Jellicle Ball, so now we can get more information for Macavity!"

Suddenly Rumpleteazer's eyes widened. They began to shift around, looking anywhere but at Mungojerrie.

"Not only that," Mungojerrie continued, excited. "You know what the Jells are saying? They're saying they want _you _to dance the Coming of Age during the Ball. _You'll _be dancin', Teaze! Fancy that!"

Rumpleteazer's gaze switched to Mungojerrie's invention on her arm. She began to pull nervously at the yarn strings that tied her black fridge magnet to her palm.

"Do you know what that means?" asked Mungojerrie, tipping his partner's chin up to gaze straight at him.

The young calico queen, her blue eyes somewhat less bright than usual, looked dimly up at her partner.

"It means…" she said. "…that we've got to go."

* * *

Munkustrap's ears flicked suddenly as he sensed someone enter his den. Instinctively he whipped around in a low growl, his claws out.

The tall queen at the entrance stared at him, her posture tense, and then sighed as she settled down.

"I suppose I had to get used to that," she said, putting down the satchel she had on her shoulder. Munkustrap returned to a regular stance, surprised.

"Bombalurina? I didn't think you'd be coming today."

"Good haul this morning at the docks. I brought Electra some of the extras from the other queens' catches."

Munkustrap wilted a little, feeling guilty. The last time he'd spoken with their daughter was yesterday, during their fight. "You'll have to find her on your own," the silver tabby shook his head. "She's not talking to me."

Bombalurina seemed concerned. She observed the state of the den, still a mess from yesterday. "By Everlasting Cat, look at all these papers. I figured a tribe leader like you would keep every nook of his life neat. What happened?"

"I… had an argument with Electra yesterday," Munkustrap admitted. "This is the result. She's got this sort of… sassiness growing in her."

For some reason, Bombalurina smirked at him. "She's taking after me."

Munkustrap rolled his eyes. "I guess that's why the two of us didn't work before."

"Is there any way I can help? With Lectra?" asked Bombalurina, ignoring his comment.

Sighing, Munkustrap turned back to neatening up the scattered files. "I don't really think so."

"I'm your friend."

"In a way."

"Still your friend," Bombalurina said firmly. The tall scarlet queen sauntered over to her ex-mate, and placed her hand on his shoulder. "If you need any help at all with Electra, please come to me if you need to. Under the Everlasting Cat we may not be mates, but we still are parents."

"Even if you have Tugger."

"Even if _you_ have Demeter," the scarlet queen frowned. "You're being awfully… irritable."

"Really?" Munkustrap asked, sarcastically. Still, he realized she was right. He kept his view locked on the files.

"You're snapping at me like I have no reason in my head," Bombalurina smiled. "If I didn't know any better, I wouldn't say Electra was taking after me. I think she's taking after you."

Munkustrap turned around to stare at her, stunned at her remark. "After _me_?"

Bombalurina laughed lightly. "Well, don't act so _surprised _about it. I've spent my time around our Electra, too. She's exactly like you. Stubborn, and daring, and maybe a _little _bit vain. That's Munkustrap."

"I suppose it'll take me time to see it," he leaned against the wall as he folded his arms. "And I'm _not _vain."

The red queen smiled sweetly. "Tell that to our half-year of marriage. You looked in mirrors more than I did. In fact, you looked in mirrors more than you looked at me. You vain, Munkus. Incredibly, secretly vain."

The Protector, exasperated, put a hand to his face."I guess I can see why we didn't stay together very well."

"Me too," Bombalurina smirked. She leaned slightly to the right, as if trying to peer at Demeter who was sleeping in next room over. "She sleeps most of the day, doesn't she? That's why I never see her."

Munkustrap nodded. "She prefers the night. Sometimes she comes with me on night patrol, just so we have time to talk to each other."

"She's beautiful, Munkus."

"I know."

There was a long, silent pause.

Munkustrap's eyebrows furrowed. "You're not expecting me to say the same for _Tugger_, are you?"

"You don't have to," Bombalurina laughed melodiously, and patted her ex-mate warmly on his shoulder. "Though that tom really is quite amazing. Talk to Electra soon. She loves you more than she loves me."

The scarlet queen twirled around for a graceful exit from the den, and once again Munkustrap was reminded of how large and chaotically put together his whole family was.

* * *

Mungojerrie stared at Rumpleteazer, shocked. "What do ya mean, we've got to go?"

Rumpleteazer looked down. "We've got to leave the Junkyard."

"Leave the Junkyard!" Mungojerrie threw his hands up. "Why in blimes? Teaze, we got the Jellicles trusting us good! And we have a mission with Macavity! Why would we leave the Junkyard?"

The calico queen closed her eyes, shaking her head. "Mungo… we've got to leave the Junkyard."

"Tell me why first, Teaze," he said stubbornly.

She stared up at him sorrowfully, her mouth slightly open as if she were trying to force out her reason. Mungojerrie couldn't help but feel upset.

"Teaze," he said, taking her by the shoulders. "Tell me why we've got to leave the Junkyard."

"Why's it bother you so much, anyway?" she suddenly snapped, pushing him away as rough as possible.

"What are you talking about?" Mungojerrie asked, frustrated. "Teaze, we've got a mission! We can't just leave the Jellicles where we are now!"

"Mungo, we've gone too far," Rumpleteazer cried. "There's no risk! We'll up and leave! The Jells won't notice, and the boss won't care. He'll… he'll have other plans. Let's just leave!"

"No," snapped the black-and-orange tom. "Damn, Teaze, we've got too much here! We've got too close to them!"

Rumpleteazer suddenly stood up, glaring at him. She curled her hands into tight fists. "_You're _the one who's got too close. You're the one talkin' and laughin' with them toms and being friends and all with them, and Bast, Jerrie, I think you forgot what we're here for!"

"_Why do we have to leave_?" Mungojerrie snarled, standing up. At his height the calico tom was much taller than her, but their glares held an equal power. After a long moment, Rumpleteazer looked away.

"I'm leaving in seven days," she said darkly. "And I don't care if you come with me or not, Mungo."

Before Mungojerrie could stop her, the calico queen darted out through the den exit, breathing hard.

* * *

_Dreams are full of stars and skies colored with bright orange. Like the flyers and posters of humans._

_Dreams are a safe place. You can never be harmed, and you may do whatever you want to do without consequence._

_I wonder what you dream about, Kitten, while you sleep.

* * *

_

Three days passed.

Three days passed since he had last talked to Rumpleteazer, and Mungojerrie was miserable.

At night, returning to their den, she would be strangely absent, as if she'd found some other place to sleep. At night, Mungojerrie would curl up alone in his bed, slightly fearing that she'd already run away. The sun would dawn to reassure him that she was still around.

Every now and then, he'd caught glimpses of her, walking idly with the young queens, or jumping about the mountains of garbage. Her expression would be curiously blank; else her eyes would be lowered as if unwilling to talk to anybody. Sometimes Mungojerrie wondered if she was serious about leaving the Junkyard with or without him.

It occurred to Mungojerrie that Rumpleteazer was the best friend he had in the world. More than Tumblebrutus, who was always fun to have around and was a complete riot at the dullest of hours. More than Electra, a queen so moody and stubborn yet intelligent and fantastic – a queen he had not seen at all in the past few days for some strange reason. More than Macavity, who he greatly admired and, it seemed, who greatly admired him.

(It then occurred to Mungojerrie that for the longest time, he hadn't called Macavity "the hero".)

It was impossible to imagine carrying life out in the Junkyard without Rumpleteazer. Jumping onto the giant tire by the cement pipe, the calico resolved to gather as much information as possible in the next four days, so that he could complete the mission and still go with her after that.

He looked forlornly at his right palm where the metal tab, still gleaming yet thoroughly beaten, was tied. _If she just told me why she wanted to leave..._

Sometimes, triple lives weren't worth it.

"Mungojerrie," a young, smooth voice called out. He turned at the sound of his name, seeing a black-and-white cat standing at the edge.

"Oh. Hey, Misto."

The conjurer nodded, and wordlessly he sat beside the black-and-orange tom, looking out towards the center of the Yard.

"You've been rather down," Mistoffelees said simply.

"Well, yeah. Teaze ain't talking to me," replied Mungojerrie gloomily, resting his chin on his knees. "We had a sort of fight."

"But the two of you _always _fight."

"I reckon this one was worse," the calico raked his claws through the fur on his head. "She doesn't even come back to the den at night."

"That's not entirely what I meant," the black tom shrugged. "The two of you always fight. But the two of you always make up. One way or another, this argument will die down; whatever in Heaviside it's about."

"I _hope _it'll die down," Mungojerrie sighed.

"You've got plenty of time," Mistoffelees put a friendly hand on the calico's shoulder. "I heard about the extension. You've got until the Jellicle Ball, and even _then _I'm sure we'll accept you permanently, anyway. Everyone loves you two."

"Everyone?" asked Mungojerrie, doubtfully. "Even… Munkustrap?"

Mistoffelees let out a loud laugh. "You're afraid of him, aren't you?"

"Not _entirely_," the tom answered, embarrassed.

"Don't worry, a good lot of us are," the conjurer cat nodded sympathetically. "Whenever Munkustrap looks our way, Tumblebrutus pretends he hasn't been swearing noisily. Pouncival stops trying to yank his sister's fur. And so on. What can I say? Munkustrap is Munkustrap."

Mungojerrie grimaced slightly. "Where does he _get _it all?"

"If we're talking about his huge savior complex, that's all him. If we're talking about his leadership skills, I suppose it's from his Line."

"His… Line?" Mungojerrie looked up to stare at him, puzzled. "What are ya talking about?"

"You know," Mistoffelees shrugged. "His Line."

"…Misto, that didn't explain _anything_."

"Oh, so you're not familiar…?"

"Would I be _askin' _if I was familiar?" asked Mungojerrie, annoyed.

"Alright, calm down, calm down," laughed Mistoffelees. "It's an awfully long story."

"Like you said, I've got until the Jellicle Ball."

"Right. Well, you probably understand that a Jellicle's Line is his inheritance. Traits from a parent to their kitten. Jellylorum's line is the Scribe Line. She's skilled at writing, at being eloquent. It may not be obvious, but her kits Pounce and Etcetera have those gifts, too."

Mungojerrie's ears flicked back and forth. He was surprised he'd never heard of Lines before. "Keep going."

"Well..." Mistoffelees frowned, as if trying to think. "Have you met the twins? Coricopat and Tantomile. They're of the Mystic Line. That's a gift of heightened sense in body and mind. And then there's Jennyanydots, who is of the Gumbie Line. She's incredibly resourceful, as you might have noticed. She can make something out of anything. Rum Tum Tugger, well, I don't really want to know what _his _Line holds."

"And how about Munkustrap?"

"The Leader Line. He's got all the responsibility and bravery Old Deuteronomy has. And I suppose his kit Electra has it too."

"Wait a minute," Mungojerrie said suddenly, trying hard to absorb all this new information. "Old Deuteronomy… has the power to open up the Heaviside Layer. Does that mean… Munkustrap has it too?"

Mistoffelees smiled knowingly. "That's another matter. That's magic. Magic is passed down in an entirely different way from regular Line traits."

"It's what the Jellicles are known for," Mungojerrie mused aloud. "How'd ya get yours?"

"Think of magic as tangible matter. It occupies a space. In the case of a Line, it occupies one's blood. My father, Mephistopheles, died a long time ago, so I inherited his magic as a kitten since I had his blood."

"So… magic only gets inherited when the bloke who has it dies?"

"Exactly," Mistoffelees grinned. "When its holder dies, magic needs a space to occupy, so it occupies the blood that's most similar. My father passed away; I earned his powers. In the same way, while Munkustrap has his father's traits in terms of personality, he'll only ever get the power of opening Heaviside once Old Deuteronomy passes."

Mungojerrie froze. He opened his mouth to reply, but it took several stammers to force anything out from his voice. "Misto… the magic of a Line is only passed when the holder dies, yeah?"

Mistoffelees looked at him strangely, and nodded. "Yes, that's what I said."

"A-and it's only passed to the same blood?"

"Yes, Mungo… is there something confusing?"

"If… if a holder of magic dies, it's just his eldest kit that gets the magic?"

"Yes. Magic can only ever transfer to one cat at a time."

"If _that _cat dies, who gets the magic then? His kit, or his younger sibling?"

The conjurer thought about this, his eyebrows furrowing. "Well, I suppose his sibling would get it, since his blood is more similar to their parent's. So, if a Jellicle with magic dies, his younger sibling will inherit it."

Mungojerrie suddenly stood up, utterly dazed. Mistoffelees got up from his sitting position, concerned.

"Mungo, is there anything wrong?"

"Nothin'," the black-and-orange tom said.

"Was it something I said? I didn't say anything weird, did I? Sometimes I do that."

"I think I'm gonna be sick," Mungojerrie groaned.

Mistoffelees stood up to follow, his hand outstretched. "Do you need to see Jenny or-"

"No," Mungojerrie said quickly.

He stumbled down the steps from the tire, trying to run off to some secluded spot where he could catch his breath and keep his mind from spinning out of control.

Bast. The only way Macavity could ever earn the power of opening the Heaviside Layer was to kill Munkustrap.


	12. The Ally

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Alraaaaht, new chapter! My first term exams are finally over as of today (for those confused, summertime in the east is from April to May). I must say that we are nearing this story's climax. I predict it'll end by Chapter 16. Finally, all of those insignificant seeds I planted and watered during earlier chapters will sprout into the glorious baby tomatoes I planned them to be! (cackle)

Also, as I only recently became active in the fandom, I do not have many friends, silent sob. (outstretches arms) WHO WANTS TO BE MY FRAHN?

Creepy requests aside, on to the fic! Crazy stuff, appearance of blood (our old friend and M-rating-inducer), Jenny-related fluff, eavesdropping. Thank you so much for all the reviews, by the way! Enjoy!

* * *

**The Pariah, Heroic**

**CHAPTER 12

* * *

**

It was time again to report to Macavity, and Rumpleteazer would be leaving today. For the last few days, the black-and-orange queen had been missing in their den at night. Up to now, Mungojerrie had no idea where it was she went off to for sleeping. Still, the only thing on his mind now was to find her before she left, to convince here to let him report this one last time.

Mungojerrie raced over to the spot at the fence where they always met the messenger.

Rumpleteazer was there, standing quietly, her back to the Junkyard. She was leaning against the wire of the fence, her hands clasped behind her. To see just this part of her, not even her face, brought overwhelming relief. Mungojerrie sprinted on across the main clearing of the Yard.

"Teaze!" he called out, huffing. "Teaze, I need to talk to ya!"

The calico queen whipped around to look at him. For some reason, she had the most frightened expression on her face. "Mungo!" she cried, stepping away from the fence in tiny, uncertain steps.

"Teaze," Mungojerrie repeated, quickly slinking out of the Junkyard through a minor entrance. He got up and took her hands tightly in his. "Teaze, we need to find the messenger queen."

Rumpleteazer stared up at him through widened blue eyes, and then shut them as she shook her head hard. "Mungo, you don't understand…"

"You can't leave yet!" Mungojerrie exclaimed, nearly out of breath from his run. "Let's talk to Macavity, just one more time. I got to tell him something. If the old queen goes on saying one'll suffice again, then let me be the one to go. Then we'll leave, together. I promise, Teaze. I promise."

Rumpleteazer slowly opened her eyes again, seeming anxious. She was beginning to hyperventilate. "I-I-I don't want to wait for the m-messenger."

"And why is that?" the pair of calico cats turned their heads to see where the familiar voice had come from. Mungojerrie, alarmed, let go of Rumpleteazer and stood straight. It wasn't the old silver-furred queen who usually came to fetch them for the update. It was Jyx, burly and black, strongest henchcat of Macavity, the cat who Mungojerrie had scratched as a kit.

"Jyx," said Mungojerrie, shocked. He had not seen the henchcat in ages. "What's goin' on?"

"I'm here for the reporter," the large tom growled, and trudged forward to take Rumpleteazer roughly by her arm. Forceful, he pulled the queen forward.

"No!" Mungojerrie suddenly hissed, and grabbed Rumpleteazer back by her shoulders. He stepped forward, hastily. "I-I'll go."

Jyx glared at him unkindly, moving away. "Macavity's words. One will suffice."

"Then I'll go this time! Instead of Teaze! I gotta talk to him!"

"I'm taking the girl," the henchcat snarled, pushing him back. Again, he took the arm of Rumpleteazer who, in her silence, was acting startlingly obedient.

"No!" Mungojerrie, struggling from the force of the shove, stumbled forward. "I gotta talk to the boss. Let her go! Let Teazer go!"

The black-and-orange tom made another reach for Rumpleteazer, grabbing desperately for her left wrist, when suddenly a powerful sting clawed through his face.

Mungojerrie let go of Rumpleteazer and fell back as he shouted in pain, quickly putting a hand to his right cheek.

He felt three hard gashes tearing along his face, and blood dripped steadily down his fingers. Deep red stained the fur on his arm. For several seconds, his vision was bleared, the misty images of a black cat and a bright orange one towering over him.

"I preferred you stayed mute like you once were, you insolent little reject-kit," Jyx sneered. He turned to pull Rumpleteazer away towards the road.

"T-Teaze!" Mungojerrie yelled as she was led off. The aching of his wound sank deeper as he tried to get back up again. "Teaze… it'll be alright!"

Rumpleteazer looked back at him soundlessly, her eyes filled with pain.

* * *

A scream tore through the inside of Munkustrap's den. Swiftly the Protector darted to his room, where Demeter was thrashing about violently in her sleep.

"_No_! _No_,_ please_,_ please_,_ no_,_ no_,_ no_!" she shrieked, pulling at nothing, grabbing for nothing.

"Demeter! Demeter, wake up!" Munkustrap called out, scrambling onto the woven cushions to hold on to her. As soon as he laid his hands on her shoulders, Demeter, her eyes still glued fiercely shut, jerked forward. She began to claw at the air, at times grazing Munkustrap's face, yelling piercingly out.

"_Please_! _Please, M-M-Maca… Maca… please…_" the gold-and-black queen began to sob, utterly out of control. "Please, no…"

"Demeter, it's alright!" Munkustrap cried out over her screams. He couldn't understand what she was saying at all. With one hand he grabbed for her thrashing arms, and with the other he cautiously stroked her cheek. "Demeter, Demi, wake up, love…"

He watched as the queen's eyes flew open. The silver tabby dipped down to embrace her, gingerly kissing her forehead. She was breathing hard. Munkustrap felt his mate's heart beating wildly against his own.

"Demi, love, you're alright," he whispered over her softly. "Nothing's happened. I'm here. It's daytime."

"M-Munkustrap," she stammered, stunned, and slowly propped herself up as she wiped her tears away. "Was it…?"

"Nightmare," Munkustrap nodded, taking both her hands to kiss them. Her fingers were smooth, slender, tense. "Another nightmare. It seemed… worse this time, though."

Demeter's eyes turned downwards for a long time, seeming ashamed. She gently pulled her hands away from Munkustrap's to hug her knees to her chest.

"I'm a screw up."

"You're not. You're not, Demi. You're brilliant and beautiful. You're healing."

Demeter looked up at him forlornly, and murmured, "I need to tell you a-about my past." _The Rets. The rape._ _Macavity._

"If you want to, but…" Munkustrap frowned. "Would it help you heal?"

The queen was quiet for a long, long while. She began to shake her head. "No, no, never mind. No."

"Demeter," said the Protector tenderly, inching closer. "You can tell me. I want to know."

The gold-and-black queen gazed back at him through gloomy eyes. "No, Munkustrap. You don't."

* * *

He winced as he felt a damp cloth being pressed against his right cheek. Mungojerrie pulled away from it, and sank deep into the mattress that he was lying on.

"Stay still, darling," Jennyanydots' voice rang in his ear, and the cloth came down onto his wound again. It seared just as agonizingly as before. "My poor darling, to think some savage old stray would do this to you…"

The pain rankled underneath his skin until it subsided into numbness. The marmalade queen's voice sounded distant and muted as the tom began to close his eyes.

"Mungojerrie, can you hear me?" she asked. "Sit up, dearest; I'll clean off the blood. Your lovely invention, it's been stained… open your hand, let me see."

Woozy, and still lying down, the calico tom spread out his fingers to let her look at the device.

To his surprise, Rumpleteazer's magnet was attached to it, along with the yarn string. It seemed, when he'd grabbed for her wrist, the knots were loose enough to let the magnet go towards his metal tab. The yarn was partly marked with his blood.

"My dear, what's this?" whispered Jennyanydots, sounding just as astonished as he felt. She delicately lifted the old magnet from his palm, to expose the tab that was under it. It was entirely clean of bloodstains. "How strange…"

"It's Teazer's," Mungojerrie managed, his face partly buried into the bed. He reached out for the magnet as the queen dropped it back into his hand. "I-I made a grab for it."

"Why would you do that?" Jennyanydots asked, leaning closer to the tom as she dabbed her cloth lightly on his scratches.

"We were runnin'… from the stray," Mungojerrie lied. "I grabbed her hand." Suddenly he sat up, his alertness renewed. "Teaze… have ya seen Teaze?"

The Gumbie Cat sadly shook her head. "No, I'm sorry, my dear. I haven't."

Mungojerrie sighed, and leaned with his back against the wall. As he did, he stared dejectedly at Rumpleteazer's magnet that he clutched close to his tab.

"It's alright, Mungojerrie," Jennyanydots said soothingly. "I'm sure she's safe." The queen dipped her rag once more in a large thimble of water, and pressed it against his wound.

"How do you do that?" asked Mungojerrie. The water clung to his fur, the cold seeping into his veins.

"Do what, darling?"

"You… you know what to do…" the tom said shakily, still weakened from the injury. "…when someone's hurt. Like, not only with healin'. You know the words to say, too."

Jennyanydots smiled kindly at him. "I've had plenty of my own kits, Mungojerrie. Some have stayed, like my son Plato. Others, like his sisters, have ventured off to find their own places in London. The one thing they all have in common is that _I _had to endure caring for them."

Mungojerrie gazed at her, amazed. "You… you and Skimbleshanks?"

"Oh," the queen said thoughtfully, lowering the cloth from Mungojerrie's face. "Well, Skimbleshanks wasn't _always _my mate, though he is quite a wonderful tom."

"He wasn't?" Mungojerrie blinked, leaning forward. "Who was your mate before?"

"Well, he was my mate… more than a year ago," Jennyanydots fondly recalled. "Jonathan, his name was. Very brilliant. We had many children. A good pair, we were."

"Then why did you stop being mates?"

The Gumbie Cat shifted to a graver expression. "It wasn't by choice. Many months back, Macavity had launched an attack against the Junkyard with his henchmen. My Jonathan, he fought back with dedication. He had a lot to give… but he gave too much. A good tom, yes. A good tom… he was our hero."

Mungojerrie sat quietly on the bed, staring at her in awe. "He was a hero?"

"I'd like to think so. The tom himself dreamed of being considered one. We would put our kittens to bed at night; with stories… we'd tell them what heroes were like…"

Jennyanydots looked back up at the calico tom, soft and misty-eyed. "Our kittens… they've all gone."

Before Mungojerrie could do anything to try and comfort her, the Gumbie Cat wiped lightly at her face, and shook her head. "You're fine now, my dear. The scratches will heal in time, but I don't know how long you'll have the scars. You should go now."

Mungojerrie stepped off the mattress, and then glanced at Jennyanydots. He hesitated, first, but stepped toward the queen and put his arms around her in an embrace.

"Thanks, Jenny," he murmured, remembering the road he had ahead of him. He sighed heavily. "I dunno how I'd pull through this without you."

"Oh, my darling, you _will_ pull through," she said lovingly, stepping away from the hug as she placed her hands on his shoulders. "You will, because heroes are the valiant ones."

* * *

Mungojerrie sat at the highest part of the junk pile that overlooked the city, facing the main clearing. The tom was waiting, and he was going to keep at it until he got what he wanted. The sun was hovering hesitantly over the skyline; he was running out of time.

He heard steps pattering on the pieces of junk below, until the same familiar, stately Maine Coone reached the top of the pile, staring at him in surprise.

"Fancy seeing you here again," said Tugger. "What happened to your face?"

"I need your help," Mungojerrie replied plainly, rising from his place.

"How in the hell could I-" he stopped as Mungojerrie stretched out his palm and opened it, revealing the old fridge magnet. "…and what is that?"

"Macavity took Teaze," said the black-and-orange tom, his eyes still locked on Tugger. "I reckoned you might know why."

Tugger stared at him, and then sighed. "He's Macavity. He's full of trash."

"Then why are you best friends with him?"

"I _was_," Tugger narrowed his eyes at the calico. "I _was _best friends with him." The tom, seeming frustrated, turned to look at the horizon of the city. "We used to stick together whenever we left the Junkyard. We discovered all the other tribes in London – Meladou, Quelle, Thoron… Ret. That's where he found Demeter."

Mungojerrie stepped closer, stunned. "Demeter's from the Rets?" He knew little of the queen, just that she was Munkustrap's second mate, and Electra's stepmother. He didn't know that _Macavity _knew her, too.

"She was. And, well, when you're as bored as she was in the largest tribe in London, and when you're as charming as Macavity is, you can get led off rather quick. And… all those meetings at the outskirts… he was just trying to get to her. He wasn't in love with her, I can tell you that. Just another pretty queen in another dirty alley. I'm sure the rape screwed her up for life."

"Damn it," Mungojerrie suddenly muttered. His knees felt partly weak, and he limped over to a broken television set to sit down. His mind began to spin again. The air stung the wounds on his cheek.

Macavity wasn't a hero. Hell on Heaviside, he wasn't. He raped a queen. He got away with it. He hadn't saved anyone.

"Jerrie," said Tugger. The Maine Coone walked nearer to him. "I'm not best friends with him anymore. I pretend to be, when I have to go to his Headquarters, but he's become trash. And nobody else is catching on. He's already won the favor of the Thorons and the Rets."

Mungojerrie looked up at him, bewildered. "Even the Rets? Even after doin' that to their kind?"

"Hell yes, even the Rets. They're a stupid, uncontrollable bunch. They hate everyone he hates. Remember what I said before? The Jellicles had enough good in them to accept me back. That was so I'd be able to keep away from them."

The calico tom, baffled, stared at his companion. "Why would ya need to keep away from them?"

Tugger stared back out at London. "He told them _I _raped Demeter."

* * *

Electra bit her lip hard. She leaned against the wall of the den, her ears pricked, her eyes wide, every muscle within her tense and trembling. She could hear everything coming from her parents' room.

"He's trash. He's scum. He's _nothing_."

"Munkus… Munkus, please come back into bed."

"He's done nothing but cause trouble since the day he left the tribe. Look at what he's _done_! That's it. That's through. We'll send over our army. We'll end it for good."

"Munkustrap, please! Don't let me be the reason for an all-out war!"

"You aren't! Macavity's practically been asking for it ever since he launched his own attack on us months ago. Jenny's mate died. Kittens were lost. Heaviside, Demeter, _his mother was still living with us_!"

"Munkustrap… Munkus, please, don't do anything drastic. Your protecting the Jellicles is good enough. What - what would it look like if you fought back all of a sudden? He would know that _I'm _here."

"What if he's figured it out by now? What-"

Electra leaned closer against the wall, scared. Her father's pacing and livid ranting had stopped. There was only the hum of her own breathing to accompany her, to assure her that she hadn't suddenly gone deaf. Suddenly, she heard Munkustrap speak up again.

"…Spies. He must have sent spies by now."

"No," the young queen breathed. The single word echoed, filled her head. She could only see this idea going one way. "_No_…"

"…Those stray calicos," Munkustrap, out of the silence, snarled. "They're his. They're Macavity's spies."

Electra broke into a run.

* * *

The Ret tribe was the largest in London. If Macavity was able to rally their support, he would be unstoppable.

"_When you're as charming as Macavity is…"_

It occurred to Mungojerrie that the first inklings of what he considered his upbringing – his days spent at Headquarters – could all be based on a charmingly spun lie.

"_Jerrie. Your greatest ever."_

Macavity had named him after his so-called greatest ever. Was he trying to win his favor then? To create out of him another mindless, devoted minion, like Yowler or Jyx? To believe that those months of his life were occupied with no other thoughts than to make his supposed "hero" proud made Mungojerrie sick to his stomach.

The center of the Junkyard, clear of trash, was entirely empty. It was nap hour, not to be missed by any Jellicle who was clueless about the silent war that raged on within the city.

Mungojerrie padded halfheartedly across it, unsure of what to do with what information he had now. Would he still tell Macavity who he had to kill to open the Heaviside Layer? Was he going to carry on gathering information?

Would he ever see Rumpleteazer again?

The black-and-orange tom stared once more at the old magnet. It was still attached to his invention, its strings hanging loosely from his hand. He wondered if Rumpleteazer knew she had lost it. Did she still have the earrings he'd stolen for her, at least?

He tried to remember the earlier part of the afternoon. She'd been wearing her Woolworth necklace, like she always was. But the chandelier earrings weren't hooked onto them like a week ago.

Mungojerrie looked to the cement pipe that led to their den. He looked above to where their sun hole was, to see if its lid had been removed. The metal sheet was still in place, neatly covering their den.

Then he remembered that Rumpleteazer didn't need the sun hole as an entrance. She could walk normally to their den through the tunnels just fine.

_Is she back from Headquarters?_

Mungojerrie suddenly tore through the main clearing for the pipe. He remembered that time he'd run away from Tugger and had navigated the den tunnels perfectly. He needed to see if Rumpleteazer had returned, no matter how long it had been since she was taken by Jyx.

He stumbled into the cement pipe. Already there was a division of paths. _Bloody Bast_, he thought. Mungojerrie frantically racked his memory for the directions to their den.

_Left. Then right. Then left again._

He took off to the left, and already the rocks and bumps of the tunnel felt familiar.

He was going the right way. His feet picked up speed.

"Teaze!" Mungojerrie called out as soon as he burst into their den. Sure enough, Rumpleteazer was standing there.

And so was Macavity.


	13. The Partner

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Whew, here's the thirteenth! Things get serious and all the uh-oh crap happens. Also, please, please forgive my retarded science lesson nearing the middle. I fail at physics forever. Besides that, I hope everything else doesn't, well... catch you off-guard. ;D

* * *

**The Pariah, Heroic**

**CHAPTER 13

* * *

**

Rumpleteazer stood stiffly in the center of the den.

Macavity was behind her, his hand tightly gripping her shoulder as if she'd just turned away from him.

The most chilling similarity was that they both had their eyes locked on Mungojerrie.

"T-Teaze?" said Mungojerrie as he staggered in. "Boss… what's going on?"

The Mystery Cat, dark and tall, narrowed his eyes. "A large amount of things. One thing, it seems, is this tremendously unfortunate miscommunication between my two most trusted young thieves." Rumpleteazer had not yet said a word. She simply directed her dim gaze to the ground.

"Teaze, what happened?" Mungojerrie asked the queen. A new contempt for Macavity was beginning to brim from within him, even though as of yet he did not want to admit it.

"Darling Rumple has already spoken to me on her behalf," Macavity interrupted coldly. "And I no longer need to hear her. My only concern now is, good Jerrie, why you seem to have lost all objective."

Mungojerrie, speechless, stared at the two cats. He looked first to Rumpleteazer, whose lip was beginning to quiver. _Already spoken? _Then he looked again to the supposed hero.

"What are you talking about?"

"Following your duty does not entail spending the days idly playing with the Jellicles," replied Macavity angrily. "Your goal is not to _befriend _the tribe. Your goal is to help me destroy it. And what happens? Now they want you two to stay until the Jellicle Ball. Under normal circumstances, I would find this to be an advantage to our mission, but the joy I felt being emitted from you was _not _for that."

The calico tom backed away slightly, shocked. "How did you…?" he looked to Rumpleteazer, whose face had now turned completely to the wall. "Teaze, did you…?"

"Do not blame your partner. There is inborn magic, and there is learned magic. I was not lucky enough to have it inherently, but I _did_ learn what I needed. To see through another's eyes, Jerrie," the tall red cat let a sliver of light glint faintly in his eyes. "…has provided me with great information."

_Here's you hero now, Mungojerrie. _He realized that Macavity knew everything now. What to do, who needed to be dead. He knew he had to kill Munkustrap.

Mungojerrie narrowed his eyes. "You could've read our minds all along. And ya still brought us on those reports…"

"That was for one reason only, Jerrie," Macavity said, in an unnervingly composed voice. "And that was to see my lovely pet, right here." The hand he had gripping Rumpleteazer's shoulder traced lightly up her neck, to touch her cheek. To Mungojerrie's alarm, the black-and-orange queen did not react viciously. She simply turned her gaze away from him, looking ashamed.

"You _bastard!_" yelled Mungojerrie suddenly, bringing out his claws and advancing. "What did you do to her?"

"I did not do anything I wasn't allowed to do."

"_What did you do to her?_" Mungojerrie growled. He was ready to lunge at the cat standing before him, regardless of the consequences.

"Look at that, darling," Macavity said coolly, completely ignoring the tom. He stroked the young queen's chin with a finger. "You've gotten your partner incredibly angry."

"_You _got me angry," snarled Mungojerrie under low breath.

Macavity fixed his eyes on him, his brows raised. "And why would that be? Are you _jealous_, Mungojerrie?"

The tom stood his ground, firmly.

"Are you jealous?" Macavity repeated spitefully. "I get to see her every night, like you did. I ask for her, and she comes. Is that what makes you angry, to know that I've stolen your beautiful queen? You've taken her sorely for granted, you know."

A tremble began faintly in Mungojerrie's arms. In one fist he held the old magnet to the tab.

"Rumple," the Napoleon of Crime cooed eerily at the queen, who had glued her eyes shut, as if afraid. "You've made him horribly angry. I have no choice but to punish you for it. Do you like it, this little accessory of yours?" The claw he had pressed lightly against her cheek lowered to her Woolworth pearls. He placed it under its glittering chain – and in one hard jerk – broke through it.

The shining pearls clattered loudly to the floor. Rumpleteazer gasped, making the first noise since Mungojerrie had entered.

"Useless," Macavity sneered. Mungojerrie charged at him, raising his unsheathed claws. Almost immediately, the older tom dodged his swipe, and swiftly grabbed him by the neck.

Holding the calico in front of him, Macavity tightened his grip slowly.

"You worthless little thing," the Napoleon of Crime hissed, in a new, seething anger Mungojerrie had never heard before. "You have failed the mission. I'm taking things into my own hands now. The Ret Tribe attacks tomorrow, fully. I do not care if you warn Munkustrap or the Jellicles – they will easily be beaten anyway. If you try to run and hide, we will find you without difficulty. You can die with them, for all I care."

Macavity released Mungojerrie from his grip, and the calico tom fell to the floor, gasping. The tall red cat turned to Rumpleteazer, who for the entire ordeal had stood like a statue in her place.

"I will see you again tonight," Macavity snarled deeply. "…Whether or not you choose to side with me."

Without another word, the Mystery Cat stepped back and in a blinding crackle of electricity, disappeared.

Rumpleteazer promptly fell to her knees, right beside Mungojerrie. Her voice was hoarse, broken. "Mungo… Mungo, I'm so sorry..."

"Why did ya do it?" asked Mungojerrie shakily.

Rumpleteazer stared at him. "Mungo…"

"You just gave yourself over?" Mungojerrie snapped, twisting his head towards her. "It was that easy?"

Rumpleteazer bit her lip hard, tears now glimmering visibly at her eyes. "Mungo, stop _talkin' _like that."

"Talkin' like _what_?" Mungojerrie growled. "Like you talk to me at all! Like you told me all of this! You spent all this time, where I was always lookin' out for you, with _him_, that bastard, that trash from _hell_-"

"You called him a hero!" Rumpleteazer yelled shrilly, scrambling to her feet. "He was your _hero!_ From day one! The second he doesn't see you as one too you call him a bastard! You're a traitor! You're a traitor in every way! You - you spend your time with the Jellicles, y-you don't even _listen _to me-"

"I listened to you!" Mungojerrie bellowed, standing up. "I listened to ya every damn day! You just didn't give a damn about anything! Just be good for the boss! No need to work, just give him what he needs _every single fucking night!_"

Rumpleteazer slapped him hard, where his scars had formed. A hard sting shot through his face. Mungojerrie stumbled back, quickly putting a hand to his cheek.

"Don't talk like that about me," said Rumpleteazer shakily.

Mungojerrie promptly turned and walked out of their den, his heart dropping to his stomach.

* * *

_Heroes are the valiant ones. They rescue the helpless, aid the needy, save the day._

* * *

Breathing hard, Mungojerrie trudged out through the pipe, not daring to look back and see if Rumpleteazer was following. His heart was beating wildly. Everything he'd ever known was a lie.

_Macavity hates me. Teaze hates me. The Rets attack tomorrow. _There was nothing for him now to do. He couldn't save the day. He was nothing.

"_I get to see her every night, like you did. I ask for her, and she comes. Is that what makes you angry?"_

Rage rankled from within him. He thought Rumpleteazer was his best friend in the entire world. There was nothing now that sealed them together, and there was nothing that Mungojerrie wanted to do more than get back at her, one way or another.

The black-and-orange tom ran swiftly across the Junkyard's main clearing, his head spinning once again. The jagged wire of the fence felt like it was closing in on him, gradually. Where was everyone?

In the corner, suddenly, he spotted another cat, standing alone at main entrance in the fence. Running closer, he could make out its markings: dark, brown, sharply zigzagged. Electra. She stayed there with her back facing the Junkyard, her ears flat on her head. Picking up speed, Mungojerrie gathered all the anger he'd retained and put it to the force in his voice.

"Electra!" he called out roughly, and immediately the young queen spun around. Her eyes were wide and anxious, and quickly she stepped forward, her arms outstretched towards him.

"Mungo," she cried breathlessly, as the calico came up before her. "Bast, what happened to you… I have to tell you something-"

Before she could finish, Mungojerrie took her in, wrapped his arms around her waist, and kissed her hard.

* * *

_Dreams are full of stars and skies colored with bright orange. Like the flyers and posters of humans._

* * *

What is it like to fall in love? One would imagine that it would hurt. One would imagine that you would take it for granted, ignore it until you realized there was nothing left to take for granted at all. One would imagine that love resided in the person closest to you, closer to you than anyone else in the world. One would say that, love was there from the beginning.

All of this happened to Mungojerrie, one half of the Notorious Couple of Cats.

On his lips he felt Electra's gasps, frantic, surprised, light. He pressed against her, his eyes closed shut. She was stunned by this sudden move, he could tell. And so was he. He couldn't tell if he'd kissed her out of affection towards her, or anger towards Rumpleteazer, or just out of the great, big, loud _why _he was asking his universe.

But he could tell he couldn't go through with this.

Silently, tom let her go and pushed her gently away, looking to the floor. It hadn't changed anything. His heart was still in his stomach. Slowly, all the rage he was holding for Rumpleteazer, shifted to the lowest sensation he'd ever felt.

"Mungojerrie…" Electra breathed, her voice full of concern. She hesitantly reached a hand out towards him. "What's going on?"

Mungojerrie looked up at her. She was intelligent, and sweet, and undoubtedly good to him – but she hadn't been there from the start. If she knew who he really was, who would stop her from turning against him?

Heavily, Mungojerrie trudged past the young tortoiseshell queen, towards the endless length of street. "I have to go," he said in a low voice.

"W-Where are you going?" Electra asked, anxiously.

"What I'd kill t'know," he muttered, and broke into a mindless run. The city stretched on infinitely.

Mungojerrie ran until the Junkyard was out of sight.

Mungojerrie ran until the sky grew dim.

Mungojerrie ran until he was lost.

* * *

The black-and-orange tom had expected to arrive in the darkest, seediest part of London, abandoned by humans and inhabited by monsters, whatever form they chose to appear in. Instead, he found himself where the buildings were taller, and the streets were cleaner.

Above him, the gate of a private human's village towered among the trimmed bushes. At the top was a group of carved letters. Frowning, he tried to jog his memory for any lesson on the alphabet.

_V… I… C… Vic. T… O…_

_Victoria Grove?_

The large, golden letters were perched at the highest part of the gate. Underneath it, Mungojerrie could make out the words _PRIVATE RESIDENCES, _but he didn't know what the meant.

Peering through the gate's shining black bars, Mungojerrie was astounded. Unlike the tiny apartment building he'd first robbed from, these houses were gigantic – rich, pristine. Warm light shafted out from each of the windows. He could almost imagine the haul there was in store for him to steal.

"I'd think twice to go in there, brother."

Mungojerrie whipped around to see a new cat leaning against the tall white wall that protected Victoria Grove from view. The tom had cream-white fur, but was striped with brown, and with a rag he was wiping his hands clean of – oil, was it?

"What're ya talkin' about?" asked Mungojerrie, too tired to display hostility.

The tom brushed the fur on his head back. "I say, I'd think twice to go in there. That's Victoria Grove, see, brother."

"Yeah," Mungojerrie replied, annoyed. "I can see that."

"Maybe not so much, brother. You don't see _what _Victoria Grove is. It's the place for the pampered humans, see, and their prissy li'l Meladou cats," the brown-striped tabby stretched out a clean hand. "Matthias, from the Thoron tribe."

"Mungojerrie," he made sure not to use the hand with the tab and magnet tied to it, and shook the Thoron cat's hand, but realized he didn't know where to say he came from. Was it safe to mention the Jellicles outside of Jellicle territory? Did he really still want to be associated with Macavity's people? The calico hesitated. "…Mungojerrie, from… from the Ret tribe."

Matthias whistled, as if impressed. "I figure you're one of the smarter ones, since you know how to read the Victoria Grove sign?"

"Yeah… you could figure so."

"Lucky you, brains and brawn, brother," Matthias smiled, and returned to wiping up his hands. "Say, you got your share from Macavity yet?"

Mungojerrie looked up, startled. "My share? From Macavity?"

"Yeah, brother. I guess you were wandering while he gave that announcement. All the Rets get a good fat rat to feast on for helping him fight those Jellicles. The Thorons each get one, too, if they helped make a weapon for him."

Then Mungojerrie remembered. The Rets were attacking the Jellicles tomorrow. And Macavity had an alliance with the Thorons, so of course they could supply him with weapons. Bast. He had to get back to the Junkyard as soon as possible.

"What's on your mind, brother?" asked the brown-striped tabby.

"Nothing," Mungojerrie answered quickly. He began to squirm. "Hey, uh, Matthias… did _you _make a weapon for the big guy?"

Matthias grinned, as if proud that he'd asked. "I sure did, brother. An automatic Gatling machine gun made from pipes, molded metal and my own bare hands; see. You click the trigger and it shoots its bullets, on and on. It's operated on oil, pressure, and darn simple physics."

"Wow," said Mungojerrie. He decided to pretend he knew what any of that meant. "You sure it'll hold up, though? What with the Jellicles having magic and all."

The tom frowned. "That's what I'm worried about, see. The Gatling can fire at any target fine and well, but of those Jellicle magicians shoot at it with their fancy electricity, it's good as gone."

Mungojerrie's eyes widened. "So… lightning stops the weapons?"

"Yes, brother. Well, most of them anyway. It messes up the insides. Thorons' machines work by mechanical energy, not electricity."

_That might help_, Mungojerrie thought to himself.

"Look," the calico said, stepping back. "Thanks for the update. I best get back to the Rets, to uh, tell 'em what ya said."

"Sure thing, brother," Matthias gave a sunny wave. "I'll see you tomorrow for the battle."

Mungojerrie nodded and turned away, walking down the street and away from the magnificent Victoria Grove. He vowed to return there someday, and actually enter.

He made sure he was gone from Matthias' sight at the turn of the block, and shifted back to a swift run.

* * *

The Junkyard was dark, and quite. The clock tower overhead chimed eleven in the evening.

It felt like hours since Mungojerrie had last seen his den. Wearily the calico tom entered, and an odd feeling within him wished to see Rumpleteazer.

As he plodded in, he saw it was empty, but in the same state as he'd left it. The posters and flyers he loved had been torn off the walls and lay shredded on the floor. Rumpleteazer's pearls were also still scattered around him.

Mungojerrie's heart sank. Where was she? Had she gone back to Macavity, as he'd ordered? A part of him wanted to go back out the Junkyard and search for her, but he knew that now the Jellicles needed him, small as his part was in their lives.

The tom sat down to the floor, picking up Rumpleteazer's glittering Woolworth pearls. They were her favorite possession, he remembered, and he decided to do something about it, in case she returned to the Junkyard.

In case she returned to him.

Gathering the pearls in front of him, Mungojerrie took the yarn that tied his metal tab to his palm, and pulled it loose. He took the entire length of string, and his tab and Rumpleteazer's magnet fell to his lap.

The tom set to work. Picking up each pearl, he strung it through the yarn of his invention, one after the other. It was a far cry from the chain they used to be on, but it was the best he could manage. When all of them had been strung onto their new home, he knotted both ends so they wouldn't fall off.

Now for the clasp. He took his old metal tab, and tied it neatly to the end of the new necklace. Now it had something to hook onto. _But what about the other end? _The magnet itself was too big to be tied to the yarn, and he had no other materials at hand.

Out of the blue, Mungojerrie noticed a glittering _something _from underneath Rumpleteazer's bed. Curious, he inched over and reached under the mats, and what he found astounded him.

It was the two diamond chandelier earrings that he'd stolen for her, that she'd hooked onto her Woolworth necklace before.

Mungojerrie's heart jumped. _She kept them._ She was still loyal to him, somehow.

Quickly he put one of them down, and the other he pulled apart. Now he had its thin metal hook. He tied it to the bare end of the necklace he'd made, and tested it by hooking it to the tab on the other end. Mungojerrie held his work up.

The yarn was rough and bristled, and the tab and hook didn't act as a very sturdy clasp, but the pearls strung side by side were a brilliant thing to look at. Mungojerrie grinned for what felt like the first time that day, and then carefully settled the new necklace down on Rumpleteazer's bed in case she came back soon.

Mungojerrie looked at his posters, strewn around on the floor. He found his favorite, the _ST MUNGO _one, and flipped it over to the side.

_RAM POL TEI ZA_

_MA GO JER E_

It was the old writing he'd made of their names the first day they'd arrived in the Junkyard, back when they were still shoddy at spelling (he still was, he just didn't want to admit it). He folded it untidily and set it aside.

Then he looked at another flyer on the ground of the den. _WAITRESS WANTED_. It was the flyer Rumpleteazer had gotten for him on their third day in the Junkyard. It made him miss the simpler days of the mission.

Sighing, Mungojerrie flipped it over to fold it, but stopped suddenly as he stared, his eyes welling up, at what was written on the other side. It was like how he'd written their names, probably with a dirty claw, just slightly neater. It was by his partner, he figured, and as he gingerly set it back on the floor, Mungojerrie concluded that he needed to find her, soon.

_MUNGOJERRIE_

_PLUS  
_

_RUMPLETEAZER_


	14. The Origin

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm so sorry this took so long! I have been hella busy this week. This one's sort of a shortie though, because it's pretty much just preparing, preparing, preparing for the big second-to-last chapter. Here we go, darlings!

* * *

**The Pariah, Heroic**

**CHAPTER 14

* * *

**

There was once a stately old tom, Deuteronomy, who had been ruling the Jellicle tribe for years. In a display of his power, he took Grizabella for a mate, a Glamour Cat notorious for being a wanderer, a flirt, but most of all, strikingly beautiful. _"…Family's got the habit of choosing the wrong cats to fall in love with."_

To the tribe's surprise, the First Couple bore only a single kitten, a sign from the Everlasting Cat that it disapproved of their mating. Grizabella realized that she'd abandoned the carefree life she loved for a dim, mundane one with this scruffy old Leader cat for a mate, and one night took her things and deserted the tribe for good. Jennyanydots and Jonathan, the resourceful Gumbie Cats, kindly volunteered to watch over the son she left behind.

That was when Munkustrap's life began.

* * *

When Deuteronomy recovered from her sudden departure, he took a new mate, a courteous middle-aged queen named Noilly Prat. She was dutiful and devoted, and the tribe would have adored her if she only smiled a little bigger, or at least came out in the daylight more often. She bore many litters for the Jellicle Leader, as it was said she was favored by the Everlasting Cat.

In her second set of kittens was a certain tom, who unlike his Deuteronomy-gray siblings, had fur that possessed the fire and flame of his quiet mother. He was undeniably intelligent, but unspeakably rebellious, and with his best friend Tugger explored the reaches of the city, until the crimes he committed were too great for the tribe to ignore. A final straw banished him from the Jellicles.

That was when Macavity's life began.

* * *

Munkustrap, a bright young tom who was everything his father had wished for, owned all the bravery and strength that was apt for a perfect Jellicle Protector. His weakness, it seemed, lied in his emotion. _"…Family's got the habit of choosing the wrong cats to fall in love with." _

Once he became an adult tom, the tabby took Bombalurina as a mate – she was confident, fiery, the standout queen of the Jellicle tribe, and it seemed fitting that the future Jellicle Leader would take someone who would be able to command a crowd.

Again, the Everlasting Cat disapproved. From their first litter there was only one kitten – _"And a queen-kit, at that"_. The shock was universal, and in seeing that they were not capable of producing the male heir the tribe demanded, Munkustrap and Bombalurina separated, leaving the Protector with the large-eyed young queen who would come to love him most.

That was when Electra's life began.

* * *

Growltiger was a Bravo Cat who sailed the seas as a pirate. The Bravo Cat line was one of cunning and quickness, and throughout London he was feared by all tribes. Despite all this, Growltiger held a perpetual fondness for beautiful queens, and one morning even allowed onboard a silver siren by the name of Grizabella, so that she could travel the world as she'd wished.

A few years after that, Growltiger stopped again at the same dock, and was enamored by a grand-looking Persian named Griddlebone. Their affair was a lengthy one - they spent the days roaming idly and the nights hidden in alleys, and most say the longest time the Pirate's ship was ever perched still was during that time, floating by the London bay. They say it was also the fastest it had ever left, after Griddlebone presented to him a loud little kitten with its mother's cream white but its father's wild stripes.

With no one else to go to, Griddlebone came to serve under an exiled Jellicle: Macavity. Even then the Persian was restless, and one day mysteriously left her kitten with the Mystery Cat.

That was when Rumpleteazer's life began.

* * *

A tom kitten was born one balmy, moonlit night in the Jellicle Junkyard. He was mostly mute, but made something beautiful with everything he could get his tiny hands on. His parents sang him to sleep every night, with stories of heroes and dreams, of how he was promisingly growing up as the Cat who could take their place once they were aged.

He was barely past half a year of his life when Macavity attacked the Junkyard. Henchcats stormed in through the dens, either killing the kits they found or tossing them outside to be dealt with later. Even as his father died in the battle, this kitten was the luckiest out of his siblings, but was lost in the chaos and ultimately pulled out of the Junkyard, frightened. Defenseless. Mute.

Mungojerrie was a pariah from beginning to end.

* * *

"Mungojerrie! Rumpleteazer!" A muffled voice called out their names, and Mungojerrie's eyes snapped open.

He found himself curled up in his bed, still clutching the _WAITRESS WANTED _flyer with Rumpleteazer's writing on it. He looked over to her bed; she still wasn't back. A distant chime signaled it was three o'clock early in the morning.

"Mungojerrie! Rumpleteazer!" the outside source said again, and the calico scrambled to his feet. He could recognize that voice now, scary as it was.

Munkustrap marched in, his anger evident but his manner controlled. His green eyes were fixed intently at Mungojerrie, who could do nothing but stand still.

"Morning, Munkustrap," he said, simply.

"Where's Rumpleteazer?" asked the Protector.

"I dunno," Mungojerrie honestly replied.

The silver tabby held up a crumpled note that read _GET READY JELLICAL COWERDS. _"These threats have been coming in ever since the two of you entered the Junkyard. You know something of them, don't you?"

"No," answered Mungojerrie, still completely honest. He'd never seen that paper before in his life.

"Of course you'd answer you didn't," Munkustrap said, advancing. "I suppose Macavity told you to say so?"

Mungojerrie bit his lip, and shook his head. "You've got this wrong."

"Which part have I got wrong?" Munkustrap snarled. "You're Macavity's spies."

"Not anymore," Mungojerrie growled, growing hostile.

"If not anymore, what shall we treat you as, then?" asked the tabby. He stepped back slightly, as if preparing for a fight.

"Macavity said the Rets are attacking tomorrow," Mungojerrie promptly said. "…Along with the Thorons."

Munkustrap paused, looking surprised. He assumed a regular stance again, though a little stiff.

"The threats…" he began. "…they've been coming from them, haven't they?"

"From the Ret tribe? I reckon so."

Munkustrap glanced again at the wrinkled note, and then tossed it to the floor of the den. He turned back to the calico tom, looking suspicious. "Why are you telling me this?"

"I want to help, but it's not just for you," replied Mungojerrie, solemnly. "Macavity's got Teaze. I want her back."

Munkustrap nodded, but it seemed too guarded to be considered sympathy. "I suppose we'll have to work together."

"We'll keep the hate for later?"

"If all goes well, we'll see if it's still there by then."

Mungojerrie nodded and, in an odd display of civility, the two toms reached out to firmly shake each other's hands. The Jellicle Protector was fully adult, and was armed (or burdened, it seemed) with years of experience, while the calico tom was a young one who had no fears to limit him, but with defeating Macavity as a common goal, all histories were virtually erased.

* * *

Rumpleteazer reminded herself again that she was not a good girl.

The thing was: who could blame her? She didn't know anyone else who was good, at all. The Jellicles, for all their hospitality, could be proud and ignorant. The henchcats were obedient as they had to be, but were the first to dash off in the presence of anything beyond obligation. Macavity, despite having raised her from kitten to queen all this time, was having her repay, in all the worst ways possible.

And Mungojerrie, _her _Mungojerrie, the tom she'd been closest to all her life, was the worst criminal of all. He was arrogant, and bad-tempered, and lazy and slow and immature and sarcastic and incredibly jealous and he swore too much.

She really, really missed him.

She'd been afraid to face Mungojerrie again, and so took shelter with Macavity with nowhere else to go. Her old sleeping spot was still intact – a cluster of old cushions, much softer than her Jellicle den's, set and fluffed to serve as the best bed for the princess of the house. Macavity's girl, more ways than one.

In the decrepit butcher's shop that was Headquarters, it seemed wrong to say that she was "back home". The henchcats she'd grown up with – names like Yowler or Kieva or Limenlink flitted by – regarded her with silence, neither respectful nor hostile. But she knew that they watched her; they watched whenever a messenger poked his head into the living quarters, announcing that Macavity requested for her (_fourth time tonight. Macavity likes to celebrate victories in advance_) to come to his own private den.

"You can't deny it," the Mystery Cat whispered into her ear, his body casting threatening warmth at her back. "I have been good to you all your life."

"Yes," the young calico queen answered mechanically, not flinching away from his touch.

"There is nothing I am doing you didn't allow me to do that second report."

"No," she said.

"I have been good to you," he said in a low, deep growl, taking her arms. "It's about time you paid me back."

"Yes," Rumpleteazer answered, plain, simple, robotic.

She could really use some saving right now.

* * *

"We're outnumbered, simple as that," Mistoffelees said gravely. "The Rets themselves are already too many to manage. If they're accompanied by the Thoron tribe, we're helpless."

The group of toms held their meeting in Munkustrap's makeshift office, and so far, the only common agreement was that there wasn't much hope.

"I reckon they'll go full force, first thing in the morning," said Mungojerrie.

Alonzo, grasping at the edges of the desk, snarled slightly. "So what? We've got magic."

"They've got guns," Munkustrap pointed out. "Macavity commissioned a number of the Thorons to build him weapons."

Mistoffelees, who had been pacing obsessively, sighed. "And our magic has limits, not to mention only a handful of us have it. I think we need to evacuate the entire tribe from the Junkyard."

"_Hell _no," Tugger scowled, leaning against the wall. "What'll we look like to Macavity and that pair of dolt tribes if they come to fight and they find our lot completely empty? Cowards, that's what."

The conjurer shot him a glare. "It's the Jellicles' _safety_, and not _ego_, that is in our best interest, Tugger."

"I'm _not _talking about ego. I'm talking about beating up those pricks and not just prancing away from the problem just to keep things all dandy!"

"You think we're doing this to keep things _dandy_?" Mistoffelees growled, fully facing the Maine Coon. "We're approaching the brink of a war! You want us magicians to shoot sparks and zap the enemies away? Go learn your own tricks!"

"You _do not _talk to me like you're head of London, you year-old _kit_, because I have gone through worse things than your sparkly little head could even imagine! And you'd best shut up if you can't see anything about me past my mane!"

"_Could you go through one single conversation without mentioning your mane?_"

"Stop it!" roared Munkustrap, and the two toms abruptly quit yelling at each other. "We could argue all day and miss the battle itself. So what are we going to do about it, then?"

"We fight, of course," said Alonzo, somberly. "The safest path would be to evacuate the tribe, but we don't know what Macavity has waiting for us at the outskirts. There could be henchcats keeping watch to alert him. He wouldn't let us off that easily."

"Alonzo's right," Mungojerrie piped up. He'd been silent for majority of the meeting – as the bringer of bad news, he felt like he'd been mostly unhelpful after that. "Macavity probably has his people all over the city. We can't take a risk."

"Then how will we fight?" Mistoffelees asked doubtfully.

"Magic," the calico tom replied.

"Well, yes, but-"

"It's their weakness," he interrupted. "Remember that Thoron tom I told ya about? He told me their weapons are scrap metal against magic. Lightning."

Alonzo, still at the desk, turned to the conjurer. "Well, Mistoffelees? Do you think you could manage that?"

The tuxedo tom frowned from where he was. "For probably a few minutes, I'm sure I can. But there's one of me, and probably fifty of their weapons. Electricity is a delicate magic."

"Old Deuteronomy can make lightning, too," offered Alonzo. "We could ask him for help."

Munkustrap shook his head. "He's too valuable. We can't put my father at the front lines."

"Use Macavity." The three toms looked at Mungojerrie, who had suddenly spoken up once again. He stared back at them with equally wide eyes, as if waiting for them to understand.

"Jerrie," Tugger ran a hand through the fur on his head. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Misto, you said that magic could be inherited," the black-and-orange tom turned to Mistoffelees. "But there's also a way to _learn _magic on your own, right?"

The conjurer nodded, looking interested. "It's a hard thing to do, but yes, there is."

"Back when I was still in Headquarters, he showed us he could do all sorts of magic that he learned. He can read minds, and he can float in the air, too. He also showed us that he's got lightning."

Munkustrap crossed his arms. "So you're saying we could use his own power against him. How? Reflect it back to the weapons themselves?"

"I don't know how we can do it, but yeah, sorta like that," replied Mungojerrie, scratching his head. "It's just another cat's powers, but it'll help."

"Sounds good to me," Tugger shrugged, stepping forward to the desk. "What have we got to lose?"

"_Everything_, you idiot," Mistoffelees said.

"Shut up. I meant that for the part where we use Macavity's powers against him. It's about time the bastard punched himself in the face, really."

"Alright, alright," Munkustrap, irritated, waved a hand at them. "Let's begin with the plan.

* * *

It was six o'clock in the morning, and just an hour away from the Junkyard attack. Rumpleteazer, carefully, slinked out of Macavity's private den.

It occurred to the queen that this was the first time she ever noticed how ugly Headquarters looked. She knew that several parts of the concrete ceiling had fallen through, and the tiles of the floor had long been rough and cracked, but she never realized how filthy all the debris and ruin looked when put all together.

Rumpleteazer missed her mother. She was long gone, and she didn't know a thing about her besides her name Griddlebone, but she did. Mothers, she figured, were the type to give unconditional love, and the type you could trust with no possible dangers. There was nobody in her life she knew that she could love that way.

It seemed, from the way the Jellicle kittens acted, mothers were their second halves.

Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer, the motherless Couple of Cats. Missing their second halves.

Quietly, creeping through the fallen boards, Rumpleteazer found her way to the exit of Headquarters. She escaped to the outside, under the mist-veiled sun, and ran quickly down the street that lead to the Junkyard.

* * *

Mungojerrie, exhausted from the early-morning meeting, returned to his den. It was the same as he'd left it. The new necklace he'd made for Rumpleteazer sat still on the rags that made up her bed, and the flyer that had her writing of _MUNGOJERRIE PLUS RUMPLETEAZER _lay on the floor.

The calico tom sat down on his own bed, wondering whether or not all their plans would work. Munkustrap had decided to call an emergency meeting to wake up all the Jellicles in the tribe, to inform them of what was going on.

He could imagine, from the yells of panic he could hear from outside, that that wasn't going over very well.

Lying down in his mats, Mungojerrie did the one thing he never thought he would ever do on his own accord – he thought deeply. The tom remembered that time he wished to be a hero, from the earliest inklings of memory he had.

That desire had been put aside, and replaced with the hopes of _impressing _a hero, maybe. That was back when he admired Macavity, back before he changed everything that he knew about him. Now, he had no wish, no desire. He was simply tired.

All the thinking reminded Mungojerrie greatly of Electra. The calico tom blinked at himself, surprised. He hadn't thought of her for the longest time. He wondered if she still "loved" him like she'd said so all those days ago, and if that sudden kiss yesterday had encouraged her, or maddened her, or maybe just confused her. How would he be able to tell? She was so complicated sometimes.

With nothing more than anxiety for what would happen during the battle later, Mungojerrie closed his eyes, and tried to steal some last moments of sleep before what could be either the best or last day of his life.


	15. The Hero Again

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Well, here we are! Second-to-last chapter! It was rather exhausting to write this out, but I'm very, very proud of it. HEH. Watch out for some violence and blood, but nothing horrifying. Also, a shoutout to my lovely Ra-ra, who never fails to brighten my day with her Ra-ra-ities. Also to raptoregg64, SnapBanditWolf, Voice Number Seven, iamtwilight and CheddarPixie all for being beautifully loyal reviewers. I really love you guys. :D

* * *

**The Pariah, Heroic**

**CHAPTER 15**

**

* * *

**

_There was only one litter of kittens that was described as the most beautiful in the world, and, it seemed, every queen believed she had it. There was Jennyanydots too, of course, who held her own new set fiercely and with motherly defense. They were her fifth litter, she believed. In truth, she'd lost count. A mother at first will be a mother again, twice or thrice or more._

_She sat comfortably atop the car hood, watching her kittens run about in the main clearing. They were young enough to be content with just siblings as playmates, old enough to brawl and cause wounds (nothing that Mummy can't fix, come now, let me kiss it away)._

_They were a cluster of brown and black and orange patches, her kittens, and they kept to each other. The teenagers seemed too boring to play with (Coricopat and Tantomile just sit there and think_ _all day), and the newborns could barely hobble over to them without stumbling back to a crawl. She wished at least they would introduce themselves to Jellylorum's litter, Pouncival and Etcetera. Or the friendliest out of the newborns, young Jemima. Or that beautiful new arrival everyone had been marveling over, Victoria. Or, at the very least, Munkustrap's little one... Electra, was it? She couldn't recall._

"_Ma," a squeak, barely even a chirp, sounded out from below. Jennyanydots scooted over to the edge of the car hood, to check. It was one of her tom kittens, with some strange piece of junk in his hands._

"_Darling," she cooed, and reached down to lift up the child and place him on her warm lap. "What have you made today?"_

"_Ma," the kitten said again. It seemed that was the only thing he could utter so far, and his siblings (a little more eloquently) made fun of him for it. Steadily he brought the object from his chest to before her. It was a flat wooden board, and at the top of it was a bunch of old soda tabs, bent slightly and made into a clamp. It was a sized-for-a-cat clipboard._

"_My dear," Jennyanydots breathed, gingerly taking the device with amazement. "This is beautiful! I'll give it to Jellylorum for her Recorder work. What a lovely invention, kit." Smilingly she recalled the things she'd made back then, out of her own Gumbie Cat-famed resourcefulness. This kitten seemed to be the right one to continue that line._

_The youngling tom continued to gaze perplexedly at her movements, as a kitten does. He directed his wide, inquisitive stare to hers. "Ma," he mewed softly, and stretched out his tiny arms to scoot in for a hug and some milk feeding._

"_Yes, my darling," said Jennyanydots, embracing the entirety of her kitten, warmly, tenderly. "You're my little Gumbie Cat. My little Genghis."_

Mungojerrie was a pariah from beginning to end.

* * *

The morning fog was thinning rapidly as nine o'clock approached. Mungojerrie, alongside Mistoffelees, sat near the peak of a junk pile, awaiting the throng of henchcats that would break through the unsettling stillness of the mist. Mungojerrie was terrified, obviously, but he couldn't afford to show it.

In the main clearing of the Junkyard, Munkustrap stood solidly at the center, facing the major entrance. He _knew _that he would be the cat Macavity was expecting. Mungojerrie had told him. He was honestly shocked that the Protector was facing it with such calmness.

All the kittens and elders had been hidden away, nestled within the deepest dens of the Junkyard to be kept safe from harm. They were being guarded by the huntress queens, Bombalurina. Cassandra. Exotica. More than Mungojerrie could remember. It embarrassed him slightly that in this tribe he so fiercely guarded now, he knew less than half its members.

"Honestly this is a little later than I expected for a full-on attack," said Mistoffelees, squinting at the empty expanse of the city. "You'd figure that Macavity would invade at the crack of dawn."

The calico cat nodded, growing anxious. "I reckoned he'd attack earlier than that, even."

"Toffee! Jerrie!" the two toms quickly turned their heads to see who had spoken. It was Tumblebrutus, brown and white patches, clumsily trying to get to the top of their junk pile.

"Tumble! You were supposed to stay with the others!" scolded the conjurer. "And _don't _call me that!"

"But nobody's telling me what the hell's going on!" Tumblebrutus sulked. "I hear all this fuss over an attack, and Macavity, and a bunch of outsider tribes, and, well…"

"Well, _what?_" Mistoffelees scowled.

"…I really want to watch."

"Take my place, then," Mungojerrie replied dryly. "I'd trade it for th'dens."

"_Watch! _You want to watch!" Mistoffelees exclaimed, looking exasperated. He turned completely to Tumblebrutus. "Train like mad! Stay up the whole night! See then if you still want to watch!"

The white-and-brown tom stared at him sadly. "I still want to watch! I'd still want to watch, really!"

"_Get down!_" Mungojerrie yelled suddenly.

He lunged at the two toms and yanked them down by their arms as a wave of tiny bronze _somethings _flew fast through the air above them. Shouts from below were heard, and the roar of several dozens and dozens of cats exploded around the Junkyard.

The tribes were here, Mungojerrie realized. They'd been waiting for the moment least guarded.

"Misto! There he is!" shouted Mungojerrie, pointing the conjurer to a Thoron at ground level. He held some massive canon-like gun, a contraption that was shooting endlessly at them. Mistoffelees pushed Tumblebrutus behind him where it was safe, and they all crouched down.

"On three," said Mistoffelees, low enough to hide from the Thoron but loud enough to beat out the roar of gunshots. His hand, already fizzing slightly with magic, crept up the junk and aimed for the gun.

"One… two-"

"_Three!_" Tumblebrutus yelped, panicked.

Lightning crackled brightly from the conjurer's hand towards the Thoron. The cat, seemingly with quick senses, immediately dropped his weapon to run off, and as it fell to the pavement it was enveloped in lightning. As the glow of electricity cleared, the gun lay useless on the ground, still smoking slightly from the heat.

"It worked!" Mungojerrie exclaimed, in awe. "We can just keep shootin' lightning at the weapons, and they'll quit working!"

"I just don't know for how long," Mistoffelees replied unhappily. "Even inborn magic has its limits."

"Let's-just-keep-moving," an extremely frightened Tumblebrutus piped up, and the three of them began to run as another rain of gunshots tore through the air.

They dashed between mountains and hid behind pieces of junk, and in the center Mungojerrie had fleeting glimpses of – quick as lightning – Macavity. He was standing calmly at the entrance, and behind him was the faint outline of more cats marching in from the street.

"Jerrie!" yelled Mistoffelees. He pulled Mungojerrie away, stretching his arm towards something. Again, magic shot out from his hand, and hit a cat who'd had a gun aimed at the calico. "We have to join the front lines. We have to find Munkustrap."

Hastily, Mungojerrie nodded. He realized he'd been distracted, looking for something – looking for what? He'd been staring at Macavity this whole time, to see if Rumpleteazer was with him. But he hadn't caught sight of her at all.

"They're getting in, _they're getting in!_" Tumblebrutus cried, pointing at the main entrance of the Junkyard. It was the Rets, the largest tribe in London, pouring steadily into the Jellicles' home, just as planned. Some were armed, some were not, but all looked equally dangerous.

Mistoffelees shot lightning at another armed tom in the distance. His hands were now sparkling, crackling with electricity, energized by the familiar feeling of using magic. He turned to the two toms following him, looking frantic.

"Tumble, you've got to go somewhere indoors _now_," he said firmly. "We just have to find an opening."

Nearby was the sun hole that went through into Mungojerrie's and Rumpleteazer's den. The calico tom pointed at it quickly. "He can go in my den. Hurry up!"

The patched tom, no longer protesting, nodded wordlessly and scurried over to the sun hole. He jumped in, pulling the metal sheet along with him to cover up the opening.

"We still have to find Munkustrap," Mistoffelees said, turning away from the center of the Junkyard to search another side.

Mungojerrie was about to follow his lead. He whipped around, suddenly, to see a Ret climb up the junk piles, his claws unsheathed for an attack towards the conjurer.

"Misto!" he shouted, and before the tuxedo could even spin around to check, Mungojerrie lunged at the enemy. The shabby Burmese stumbled back, startled. The calico swiped his own claws at the Ret's chest, and punched him in the face as hard as he could.

Mistoffelees stared as the Ret tom tumbled backwards and down the junk pile, and then turned to stare at Mungojerrie in awe. "Wow. I didn't know you could do that. Thank you."

The calico tom nodded quickly. Spotting another gun, Mistoffelees shot out another ray of lightning in his direction, small enough to not hit the cat holding it, but strong enough to disable the weapon. The magic surrounding his arms fizzled for a few seconds, and then began to weaken.

The conjurer bit his lip, looking worried. "My magic might not be able to hold up for the entire battle."

"Isn't there _anything _we can do?" asked Mungojerrie frantically.

"Electricity comes from a source. I need a source."

On the top of the car hood, nestled underneath some garbage, were a couple of plugs. Mungojerrie stared at them as they hid from the attackers.

"You're sayin' that lightning you had awhile ago came from a source," he said, looking back at the tuxedo.

Mistoffelees nodded. "That machine over there, on the car hood. It's where I get the electricity."

"You have electricity in the _Junkyard?"_

"It seems useless, but in the Jellicle Ball we need it to light up those bulbs, old Christmas lights," Mistoffelees pointed at the dozens of lines of wire that hung about the garbage mountains, lying upon the Junkyard like web.

The black-and-orange tom frowned as he gazed across the main clearing, now a field of war. "The thing is, how do we get you up there without killin' ourselves?"

"We just have to activate it, let it turn on… and I can pull the electricity to myself from there."

Mungojerrie opened his mouth to answer, but realized that he had nothing. He craned his head for a better look at the generator, stepping slightly forward-

"_Bloody Bast!_" he yelled, ducking as a string of gunshots crashed into the trash extremely near his head. For several seconds the insides of his ears stung, still ringing from the sound of the explosion. "Bloody Bast in bloody hell…"

"Brother!" a vaguely familiar voice sounded out above the racket, and Mungojerrie slowly opened his eyes to see a white-and-brown tabby, wielding an incredibly large machine gun, gazing astounded at him.

"M-Matthias?" he stammered, and from the corner of his eyes the calico noticed that Mistoffelees had backed away to hide deeper in the shadows. But he was still watching.

"My good old Ret friend from Victoria Grove!" Matthias grinned, lowering his Gatling. "Sorry for that shooting, brother. Having fun in the Jellicle war, hope?"

"I, uh…" Mungojerrie's voice trailed off; this was all rather surprising. Then he watched the smoke that rose and curled slowly from the barrel of Matthias' Gatling. He looked again at the electricity generator atop the trunk of the car, out in the clearing. _They just have to activate it, let it turn on…_

"Still alive in the head, brother?" the Thoron tom asked, bending slightly to meet with his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, I am," answered Mungojerrie, shaking his head. He placed a hand on Matthias' shoulder, in the friendliest way possible. "Listen, could ya lend me some help?"

"Of course, Mungojerrie. How'd that be?"

He pointed at the car hood, where the machine was lying on top of. "See that box-like whatsit? Give it a shoot. Just a shoot."

Matthias squinted to look at the object, and then turned his head to Mungojerrie, seeming confused. "That box, brother? Why for?"

Mungojerrie's ears flicked; he could sense Mistoffelees walking partly forward, understanding his plan. "Just shoot at it, that's all. I reckon it'll give us some help in fightin'."

Matthias shrugged. "If you think that, brother." Steadily he raised his Gatling machine gun, and Mungojerrie watched as he aimed for the generator-

A blinding crack of lightning rapidly blazed across the Junkyard, and startled, Matthias dropped his weapon as he ran off and Mungojerrie stumbled backwards. The white-hot electricity enveloped the gun, and just as soon as it had attacked, it was gone in a hiss.

The machine gun, now useless, lay on the ground, still smoking from the heat. Mungojerrie stared, stunned, and Mistoffelees came warily forward, looking just as mystified.

"Was… was that you?" the calico tom asked.

"No, it wasn't…"

Mungojerrie realized that the entire Junkyard had gone quiet.

Slowly, he looked up, directing his sight from the Gatling to the Hidden Paw who now stood threateningly at the center of the Junkyard.

He was glaring at him, his eyes both dark and blazing.

"Inconveniences," Macavity growled. "That's all you've ever given me. From the beginning."

Mungojerrie refused to let his eyes tear away from his. He wasn't that, no. Behind Macavity were the Rets and Thorons still up for the fighting. They were all watching him as well. Surrounding them, upon the junk piles, was the smattering of Jellicles defending the Yard. Skimbleshanks. Admetus. Alonzo. Even more. But he couldn't see Munkustrap.

"Well, Jerrie?" the ginger cat hissed from where he was. "Shall you step out and help me prove that even further?"

Mungojerrie stood his place, silent.

From behind him, Macavity pulled out his own Thoron gun, advancing. "You were never much for _obeying_-"

"You will _not _harm him, Macavity."

The voice boomed from the top of a junk mountain, and Mungojerrie, Macavity and Mistoffelees turned to see the Protector, bruised and scratched but still strong, standing on top of it. He jumped down swiftly to meet the ground, and stepped forward.

"Why, it's my dear Brother Eldest," Macavity sneered, taking on a deep, charming tone. "It's been so long, much too long."

"Put the gun down."

"I'd much rather wouldn't. See, I'm helping you get rid of this nuisance. As I recalled, he betrayed you, correct? He's a spy for me. But as noble Jellicle Protector I'm sure you'd figured that out."

"We want you out of the Junkyard, now."

Macavity ignored his demand. "Well, maybe he's _not _much of a nuisance. He was able to figure things out. In fact, I don't have to ravage the entire Junkyard at all. I just need to kill you, Brother Eldest, and I'll have what I want."

"The key to the Heaviside Layer is not yours for the taking," Munkustrap replied fiercely. "The Heaviside Layer is for the _Jellicles_."

Macavity turned completely to the silver tabby, lowering his gun. "Well, Munkustrap, that hurt. You know how badly I fit into this tired old place. I hope you know that you've offended me."

"You're trying to kill us. Why would I care?" the Protector growled.

"Because," said the Hidden Paw simply, and he lunged at him.

Mungojerrie watched, inexplicably frozen. Munkustrap swung his claws against his brother, lightly drawing blood at his cheek. Macavity shoved him angrily backwards, raising his gun.

"Munkustrap!" yelled Mistoffelees, from behind Mungojerrie. The roar of a gunshot exploded throughout the Junkyard.

The silver tabby stumbled backwards, a deep, dark red curling out from his left shoulder. He fell shakily to his knees as his face twisted in pain. Smoke rose rapidly from the barrel of Macavity's pistol. He held it, still pointed at his brother.

"Simple as that," he sneered wickedly. His finger began to return to the trigger.

"_No!_" roared Mungojerrie. He dashed forward, grabbing the Hidden Paw by the arm as roughly as he could. As Macavity was taken by surprise, with his other hand the calico pushed the gun to a completely different direction as it fired another bullet. The tiny, lethal dot zoomed across the air – hitting the electricity generator atop the car hood.

What Mungojerrie saw next was both astounding and blinding. The bullet hit the machine square in the middle, and it began to fizzle and crackle with new energy, electricity. Mistoffelees ran out from hiding and stretched his arms quickly forward, and bolts of lightning flew from the plugs to his hands, creating fireworks at eye level.

His hands now blazing brightly with magic, the conjurer raised his hands and sent a giant lightning storm throughout the Junkyard. His magic zapped across the clearing, taking every metal weapon it could find. Rets and Thorons alike dropped their guns, and scattered in panic.

It was _amazing_. Mungojerrie stared in awe as the mob of enemy cats ran away, all shocked by the powerful display of Jellicle magic. Guns dropped to the ground, made useless by electricity. Mistoffelees, finished, staggered backwards, looking unbelievably exhausted. Rapidly, the Junkyard became emptier and emptier as Macavity's army disappeared. Mungojerrie looked on.

_You've done something. You've done something Heroic._

Everything suddenly went gray and white and red all at once. Mungojerrie fell to his knees as a sudden pain seared through the muscles of his right thigh. Both his leg and his head began to throb. The calico tom felt his face being grabbed by a sharp set of claws. They dug painfully into his cheeks, into his wounds.

"How charming," Macavity hissed angrily, still wielding his gun. Smoke curled out from the tip of the barrel. He had fired a shot into Mungojerrie's leg.

"I-It's still working," Mungojerrie managed from beneath the pain. Mistoffelees behind him seemed to have lost all energy, and Munkustrap lay on the ground, still passed out from his own wounds.

"Of course it is, you useless thing," growled the ginger cat. "Did you think I would let all my planning go to waste? Do you think I'd be foolish enough to lend all my trust to two idiot tribes? I do not hide behind an army. I hold my own power. This gun is of my own."

His claws sank harder into Mungojerrie's face. Blood dripped from the gashes on his cheeks. He began to pant.

"You began as nothing," Macavity sneered, leaning closer. "You will end as nothing. Hated by me, hated by the Jellicles." Gradually, he raised his gun and placed the tip against the calico's forehead. "Goodbye."

_Heroes are the valiant ones. They rescue the helpless, aid the needy, save the day._

_Dreams are full of stars and skies colored with bright orange. Like the flyers and posters of humans._

Instead of the black numbness Mungojerrie expected, he heard Macavity release a furious roar. The claws left his face. He opened his eyes.

_Rumpleteazer._

From Macavity's shoulder sprang the sight of blood. Behind him was Rumpleteazer, Rumpleteazer, _his Rumpleteazer _gripping a human's carving knife. It was the one they'd always kept stored in their knapsacks. A thin, fresh line of red clung to Rumpleteazer's knife, and she was breathing hard. As the ginger cat clung a hand to the slash across his shoulder, the calico queen bent down and picked up his gun.

"Teaze!" Mungojerried cried. With all this renewed energy he still couldn't get up. The gunshot wound in his leg bled steadily.

Macavity whipped around enraged, to face the young queen. "You little bitch!"

Rumpleteazer, looking frightened, went several steps backward, now holding Macavity's gun in shaky hands. "D-Don't hurt him!"

The Hidden Paw, staggering forward, laughed suddenly. "You're nothing. You don't even know how to use that. Why don't you come back to me, where you're all safe and nestled and you don't have to do a single thing?"

Rumpleteazer glared at the cat, wide-eyed, still pointing at the pistol at him. "Let me and Jerrie go."

"A princess and a pariah," Macavity sneered, still holding his injured shoulder. "How sickeningly charming. I am the son of a Leader. I have learned my own magic throughout my years. There is nothing, _nothing_, the either of you can do."

The calico queen let out an enraged cry, and pulled the trigger. A bullet flew out across the space between them, and just as it came to hit Macavity, an explosion of fire and lightning replaced him.

Fire and lightning.

Nothing.

Nothing stood in Macavity's place when the blinding light cleared. The Hidden Paw had escaped, again, but as the war's smoke subsided the importance of that matter seemed disappear more and more.

On shaky feet, Rumpleteazer stumbled forward as she dropped the gun, walking past Munkustrap, who seemed to be beginning to awaken. She walked past the carving knife, which now lay on the ground, entirely clean – Macavity's blood was gone, too. She walked over to Mungojerrie, who knelt weakly on the floor.

"Jerrie," she breathed, and bent down to take his arms and help him up.

Mungojerrie stared into her endless blue eyes. _Princess and pariah._

With the strength that remained within him, Mungojerrie weakly raised his hands to return the embrace, and erased all jealousy, erased all spite, erased all remnants of hatred that could have possibly risen between the Notorious Couple of Cats, with a kiss.


	16. The Pariah

AUTHOR'S NOTE: And so my first ever chapter-fic comes to a close, and, I hope, it does so with a bang. :D Mungo and Rumple, as much as I adore them, have finally found their place, and I'm very much happy to put this story to rest. Who knows? A sequel could be in the works... though I ain't really planning one. AHAHA. That being said, I'd like to thank profusely once again everyone who's reviewed - you guys are like my light and my joy and seriously one of the highlights to my day! All of you deserve giant cookies. D:

SO. I shall take a break after uploading this, maybe a few days or so, and on to the next adventure I can get off my butt to type up! I love you aaaaaallll! Enjoy!

* * *

**The Pariah, Heroic**

**CHAPTER 16

* * *

**

About the artificial mountaintops of the yard prowled the morning fog. Had it not been for the clouds that came to signal the rainy season, the sun would have shone and the Junkyard would have glittered, a phenomenon that Mungojerrie realized he was going to miss. Once he left, after all, he would never be able to see it again.

He sat on the outer side of the fence, with the scruffy old queen who used to serve as Macavity's messenger. She was nodding off, as aged cats always seemed to do, while humming some vague, vibrato-laden tune. Mungojerrie nudged her gently to wake her up again. The ex-messenger's eyes snapped open.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, and fixed herself up. "Now, where were we?"

"You were gonna ask me a question."

"Ah, yes. Well, Mungojerrie, what are you going to do now?"

The black-and-orange tom leaned against the fence, looking off towards the city. "Teaze and I are leaving. The Jellicles are great and all; definitely not anything Macavity said they were, but… I figure we've done enough damage here."

"You mean you don't find that you belong?"

Mungojerrie bit at his lip. "I guess that's a way of puttin' it. It's been Teaze and me from the beginning. It might sound bad, but we just want to keep it that route. It's us, together. Always."

The silver queen nodded kindly. "London is a big place. You have room to grow."

"What are _you _going to do now?"

She closed her eyes, with a slight smile. "I suppose I'll go back to the Jellicles. I'll try to come around the night of the Ball, in case I could be the new member they accept into the tribe. I hope they do, really, even when I left them like that…"

Mungojerrie turned to her. "I don't get it. Jellicles leave the Junkyard all the time to go on their own. Why would they hate you the most?"

"Ah, I suppose it's the little details are what gave me my name," she smiled a little, but sadly. "I left Munkustrap when he was just a kitten, before he was even healthy enough to walk on his own. He might have died. I hadn't informed anyone at all, unlike the others who always pondered first and then announced. And years later I came back to work for Macavity – Munkustrap's _brother_, can you believe - and he launched that attack long ago, so I suppose that was the final straw."

The tom thought a little, then turned back to gaze at the city. "Well, they let me and Teaze in at first gaze, so I don't reckon they'll have a hard time with you."

The old queen laughed, and patted Mungojerrie's shoulder as she stood up to stretch. "The road you have ahead is still long. Mine's about to end… I just have to decide how."

* * *

Mungojerrie jumped up to the Tire, to find Munkustrap standing there, as if expecting him. The Protecter nodded at him respectfully, and Mungojerrie returned the gesture. He had strips of bandage wrapped around the shoulder where he'd been injured, securely but comfortable tied, admirable work.

"You're not staying," said Munkustrap. It was as if he could sense Mungojerrie's uneasiness.

The calico shook his head. "Teaze and I want to go out on our own. We never were really part of the Jellicles, anyway."

"Even then…" the silver tabby trailed off, his voice cloaked noticeably with some kind of sadness. "…even then, the two of you will always be welcome here, no matter what."

"Thanks," was all Mungojerrie could say. "Though with all the crap we caused, _that's_ a surprise."

"You have many friends here," Munkustrap shrugged (then winced a little. He still had that injured shoulder, after all). "Tumblebrutus and Mistoffelees said they'd miss you. And Tugger, well, he says he thinks you're absolutely great. He also… he also says thanks."

"Oh… tell him he's welcome, then," replied Mungojerrie, unsurely. He didn't want himself to be persuaded to stay. He began to turn away.

"You're also invited to the Jellicle Ball," Munkustrap suddenly said, as if wanting the tom to continue to listen. "Granted, it's not in our tribe's nature to invite non-Jellicles, but… but my father says we're all about newness, anyway."

The pair of toms grinned at each other slightly. Mungojerrie tilted his head, curious. "So… who are you accepting into the tribe then?"

"The two of you declined, so we're going with our original choice. Bustopher Jones."

Mungojerrie nodded, and stepped back. "I've got to go soon. But… but thanks, Munkustrap."

"Thank you too, Mungojerrie," the Protector replied, and with that as their word of temporary parting, the two shook hands.

_"We'll keep the hate for later?"_

_"If all goes well, we'll see if it's still there by then."_

* * *

For the last time, Mungojerrie inhaled the dusty scent of his Junkyard den. It wasn't a smell he particularly liked, but anything that had become deeply familiar he was sorry to part with. Kneeling down, the calico tom gathered up a pile of his old posters (_ST. MUNGO, WAITRESS WANTED, FRIGHT TRAIN. _He could read much better now). Stuffing them into his trusty sock sack they were wrinkled even more than they already were, but as long as the scrawling on the back of each was safe, he didn't mind.

"Mungojerrie, darling?"

He turned at the sound of that familiar, twittering voice. Jennyanydots plodded in, her bearing polite, but her expression partly sad.

"I was gatherin' my things," he explained, even though it was obvious. He just liked to see the way she smiled as he spoke.

"You're a wonder, Mungojerrie," the marmalade queen said. "I heard the news. I'm just here to say goodbye." Without the usual good manners, she neglected to ask first and immediately brought the tom in for a hug.

She smelled nice, and warm. She smelled like she'd just cooked breakfast, or she'd just finished knitting. With all the things her scent could compare to, Mungojerrie didn't have the will to list them all down. She just smelled nice.

When the Gumbie Cat pulled away, Mungojerrie saw that she was crying a little.

"You alright?" he asked, concerned.

"Yes, yes I am," she sniffed extravagantly, and wiped at her eyes. She smiled at the young tom. "You have to forgive me. I'm not always like this. It's just that… you smell nice." She laughed, as if that was an entirely ridiculous thing to say.

Mungojerrie smiled back, and for one more time, maybe to gain a little more comfort from each other's scents, they hugged again, and that was all either of them needed for now.

* * *

The distance between Mungojerrie and the main exit of the Junkyard felt thick, and impassable. It was turning cold; the rains ahead would in months' time freeze and feather into snow. Leaving a haven as safe as the Junkyard seemed impractical, foolish even. But then, the Notorious Couple of Cats had never wanted to taste the staleness of total safety.

Still, the calico tom knew he'd miss the place. And he'd miss the Jellicles as well, for all their irritating optimism. There was that small circle of friends he'd made that he knew he would think about from time to time. Tumblebrutus for his wit, Pouncival for his cheekiness, Admetus for his affability, Mistoffelees for his sarcasm (and brilliance at magic, of course).

Mungojerrie stepped past the borders of the fence, and found himself half-outside.

"J-Jerrie?"

The black-and-orange tom spun around. Hiding slightly beneath the junk piles, an odd, shivering shape, was – who else could conceal herself so effortlessly? –Electra, dark and sharp and zigzagging.

"El," he called softly, a little cautiously. He bent down slightly to see the part of Electra's face that caught light, her glasslike, green eyes. "El, wanna come out?"

The whole of her form hesitated, and then the young queen stepped out. She held herself tightly (was she freezing or miserable? Mungojerrie prayed for neither) and stared, just stared, at him, and the tom noticed fleetingly that her freckles had completely faded away.

"So you're going," she suddenly said, plainly. Now the tortoiseshell was standing directly in front of him, still grasping at her arms. The last time Mungojerrie had seen her was that fateful day when all hell in his heart broke loose, and out of some unfathomable combination of anger and jealousy he'd kissed her suddenly.

Mungojerrie hesitated, and then nodded. "It's better like that. I hope you understand."

"I do, I do," Electra answered, nodding the same way. She bit her lip tightly, and unlike the first outburst she'd had in front of him, which was hurried and embarrassed, this one was like watching a proud tower topple, a sheet of mirror break.

Electra's hands flew to cover her face, but they weren't fast enough to hide the tears that sprang freely from her eyes. She began to shiver, nearly curl downwards, as her breaths quickened and contorted into sobs.

"Th-that was a _b-bitch _thing to do to m-me, th-th-though," she cried.

Mungojerrie promptly went forward and drew the young queen into an embrace, a fervent and sincere one. For the longest time it was like that; Electra sobbed with abandon into her palms, and the little bones that jutted from her hands pressed hard into his chest, and he held her tighter and buried his face into the overlong, wild red fur on her head, memorizing her scent and the pattern of her shuddery breathing.

Had things gone better (which, understandably, they never would have) and there was no such thing as Headquarters or Macavity or outside-the-Junkyard, Mungojerrie found that he might've fallen fully in love with Electra, odd as they were together. But today he was leaving, and he wondered what it would've been like to become Electra's mate, to roam about the yard with her night and day, to grow up and to be with the Jellicles and finally _reign _over them as _Leader_ alongside her. The image was so ill-fitting he thought he would cringe. That was not Mungojerrie, not slightly, not ever.

A pariah can't rule a kingdom.

When the two of them finally let go, Electra's eyes were dim and red, and her gaze had sunken to the ground. Mungojerrie was in ways overwhelmed – _he _was the one who did this; _he _had converted her from proud heiress to timid, vulnerable girl. Or had he not converted her, and just _revealed _her? Out of slight guilt and sincere affection he placed a kiss on her forehead, and at last stepped away.

"I'll come back for the Ball," he offered, even though it didn't seem like she would want that. "But for now, I've got to go."

Slowly Electra nodded, and she moved away a little. "I don't want to stop you," she replied. The sobs that had cloaked her voice moments ago had faded into a low, cracked tone, but a more accepting one.

Mungojerrie finally let go of her hands. They waved a hesitant goodbye at each other, and he turned to dart down the endlessly stretching road.

* * *

Mungojerrie's heroism was a secret. He'd helped save the Junkyard from Macavity (even though it was certain he would return), but only in front of the eyes of so few. Unlike Munkustrap, he wasn't now also a Jellicle hero.

There was one cat, whoever, whose knowledge of his heroism mattered the most.

The calico tom turned at the corner of the block, to meet with the one queen he was closest to in the entire world.

Rumpleteazer, radiant, grinned at him as they met on the sidewalk, each clutching their old sock sacks, heading towards a magnificently uncertain future. Around her neck was the new necklace that Mungojerrie had fashioned for her – the old yarn and soda tabs used were obvious, but the glowing pearls made it easy to forget that.

"Have ya said goodbye?" asked Mungojerrie, taking her free hand into his.

"Yep," she answered simply, swinging their arms. "To Vic and 'Mima and Etcetera… I reckon I'll miss them more than I thought."

"That place wasn't so bad, eh?" Mungojerrie grinned, glancing back at the fading view of the Jellicle Junkyard.

"We could go back for the Ball," said Rumpleteazer, perching her chin on the tom's shoulder. "But I'd want a grand entrance."

They both laughed, and in a brilliant reminiscence of childhood, they began to race together down the street, leaving behind the Junkyard, its omnipresent mists, its towering mountains, its maddening clock tower chime.

It was just like when they were kittens, clueless and carefree while living at Headquarters. At one point, when Rumpleteazer was gaining a significant lead, Mungojerrie became a sore loser and pounced on her, tackling and bringing her to the ground as they rolled along the pavement. They had another noisy squabble, just like they used to everyday, and Mungojerrie realized he had never been happier.

The pair walked on aimlessly, relying on the instincts they hoped they possessed to find the home that was calling out for them. The buildings morphed and shifted and became unrecognizable, switching between modestly-rich to pitiably-poor. They held on to each other's hands, talking idly and pointing out red objects.

After a while the two of them grew hungry. They passed by a townhouse with an open window, with a tempting Strassburg pie sitting neatly on it.

"Watch this," Rumpleteazer told him arrogantly, and jumped up onto the picket fence. Like a tightrope walker she balanced herself on it, and walked gracefully up to the windowpane. Mungojerrie held his breath; the sound of a fizzing frying pan from inside suggested that the humans were at home, and Rumpleteazer could be caught.

Swiftly, lightly, Rumpleteazer curled around the pie. It was much too big to lift up and carry away, so she dug her arms into it and pulled out the largest chunk she could manage. Now with neither of her arms to support her, she jumped quickly back down to the pavement, triumphant.

"Lunch!" she giggled excitedly, and the duo feasted to their heart's content on this newest steal.

After the meal, they walked on for much longer, until none of the buildings were familiar to them. They were taller and grander, instead of crooked and dusty.

"This street of the city is odd," Rumpleteazer breathed. About a mile back she'd grown tired of lugging around her sock bag, so she emptied it of its contents, ripped it, and fashioned it into a shawl to keep her shoulders warm in the near-winter air.

"Wait," Mungojerrie suddenly said. "I think I know this place."

Eagerly he pulled Rumpleteazer's arm forward.

"Aagh!" she whined. "Right flippin' bully!"

Mungojerrie ignored her and dragged her around the block, until in the distance he saw the tall white walls he'd been looking for.

As the two cats sauntered nearer, the sun overhead seemed to follow their paths. Its white glare reflected against the metal that made up the grand black gate. For a moment, all they could do was squint until the sun left their eyes, and they could see perched proudly above the gate were giant golden letters, curved up slightly in the middle and arching from one end of the wall to the other, reading

_VICTORIA GROVE_.

"I came here a few nights ago," Mungojerie said, as they both stared up at the words. "Ain't it pretty?"

"Yeah," Rumpleteazer answered absentmindedly, sounding transfixed.

Behind them they heard the rumble of an engine, and the two cats scurried off to one side as the black gate began to groan and move on its own – it was opening for a human's car that was approaching.

As the white limo moved into Victoria Grove's premises, Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer gripped each other's hands and dashed quickly in while the gate was still open.

The inside of Victoria Grove was a breathtaking panorama, a miniature kingdom of hills and valleys with gigantic houses perched on top. The roads, instead of looking ancient and cracked looked newly made, with a vibrant yellow neatly lining the middles. They swirled and straightened and curved, leading on to different mansions.

Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer, in awe, ambled slowly down the hill, staring at the rows of mansions that seemed to stretch on eternally. The crispness of the air held a perpetual scent, like perfume and food and gardens had mixed together. The Notorious Couple of Cats gazed on speechlessly at what looked like the path to their magnificently uncertain future.

"This place is _gorgeous_," Rumpleteazer gasped, clutching her partner's hand tightly. "It's so different. So big. This is where the rich cats belong."

Maybe he'd gone numb with joy, or was just plain crazy. Pariah, hero, whatever chose to fit better, had dissolved into a dream tucked away, entirely willing to allow the dreams that were urging to be let in.

Mungojerrie breathed in, breathed out. Turning to Rumpleteazer, he took her shoulders, and held her close so that the dream could be between the two of them.

"No," he said. "It's where we belong."

**THE END**


End file.
